In A Young Girl's Heart
by MakeYourBodyaCanvas
Summary: After the sudden departure of Edward and the entire Cullen family, Bella's life was shattered, but the deep, aching hole that should've been in her chest wasn't there. Instead, Bella was drawn to the mysterious forest nymph that only she could see. While embarking on a new journey, Bella's loyalties are put to the test as the past mixes with the future.
1. Chapter 1

**In A Young Girl's Heart:  
** _ **After the sudden departure of Edward and the entire Cullen family, Bella's life was shattered, but the deep, aching hole that should've been in her chest wasn't there. Instead, Bella was drawn to the mysterious forest nymph that only she could see. While embarking on a new journey, Bella's loyalties are put to the test as the past mixes with the future.**_

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 _ **Author's Note:**_ This story is rated M for a reason. I guess you could say that the story is strictly 18+ only. There will be potentially disturbing content, including **graphic sex, violence, mentions of rape, slavery/human trafficking, murder, disrespecting other religious beliefs, foul language, mentions of abortion/miscarriage, and a host of other possible offensive elements**. I also implore that you read this story with caution, especially if anything listed above makes you uncomfortable. This will be my only warning, so again, read at your own risk or please leave now. Any comments that I think are rude will be deleted.

This story does involve **female on female action and romance**. To simply put it, this is a lesbian love story. So if that's not your kind of thing, or it goes against anything you believe, please leave now. Any comments that I think are rude will be deleted and you will be reported.

I suppose I should also mention that Bella will become out of character in the future, or maybe not. I don't really know yet. I'm doing this story on a whim since the thought just came to me one day. But more than likely Bella will change from how she was in the books and movies. Mainly because I couldn't stand how much of a little whiny bitch she was. So yeah, she'll grow a pair or two along the way.

 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers, can be found below._

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 **Chapter 1: Life Passing By**

 _October_

Bella went straight home after school, driving her jolting, rusting truck carefully through the quiet streets. Mike had wanted her to hang around and join the others at Port Angeles — to an all aged pool bar that had a vintage jukebox and indoor sport courts — and to possibly see a movie afterwards which would mean that she'd be jammed in a theater with couples.

So she declined his offer (awkwardly, but nicely) and made a false promise to catch up with them later.

Charlie's cruiser was gone, but on the kitchen table he had left fifty dollars and a note: _Don't wait up. Order some pizza, you know what I like. Try to do something productive today. Love you. Dad._

Most dads would have probably shipped their depressed, heartbroken teenage daughter to be with the mom so they wouldn't have to deal with those sort of emotions, but Charlie wasn't like most dads, and Bella was thankful. Charlie had never been comfortable expressing his emotions out loud. It was one of the many traits from him that Bella had inherited so they had a different approach to the situation than Renée, who was nothing short of an unstoppable force of an erratic loving mother and a harebrained woman at the same damn time.

Bella just felt lucky to not have Charlie home that night. She didn't feel like sitting through another awkward conversation that was mainly one sided since Charlie was doing most of the talking now a days.

For the first time in awhile the cold bothered Bella. She dropped her bookbag on the stairs and made her way upstairs. Her bedroom was spotless, not a thing out of place. She shucked off her raincoat and shivered in the middle of the wooden floor. It didn't help that she had left the window opened last night. That was a habit that was hard to break, but there wasn't a reason for her window to be opened during the next few months. Her room would only get colder, and with her luck, Bella would then find herself emitted to the hospital for hypothermia….again.

So she closed the window.

She took a deep breath and stepped back from it once she locked the latch. It was completely pathic on her end that closing a window made her heart ache, but Bella couldn't help herself. It felt like she was closing a major chapter of her life, no matter how cheesy that sounded.

Charlie would finally be happy. He didn't understand why Bella had wanted her room to be an icebox to begin with, but he also disliked that he was wasting money on the heating since she always left the window open. Bella didn't mind the cold. Even though she preferred the warmth that she use to soak up in Arizona, the cold air was a bittersweet reminder that Ed—that _he_ had been apart of her life.

She shook her head. She dug her fingernails into her her palms until she felt the dull ache of the skin giving away. Thinking about _him_ and _them_ was still too hard. So she'd rather not think about any of it. But Bella was a glutton for punishment; she pressed down on the top of the CD player. The latch unhooked, and the lid slowly swung open.

It was empty.

She picked up the album that was resting on the stand next to her bed. And the classical style of Clair de Lune was all she heard.

She left her door opened as she walked into the kitchen, glad that she had the music playing as loud as it could go.

It was the only way to fill up the empty house.

She dug through the fridge and settled for a bowl of cereal. She had tried to eat the greasy slice of pizza at lunch, but the thought of scarfing down half cardboard cheese didn't appeal to her, even with pepperoni. So she wolfed down the cereal and grabbed a coke. She thought about spiking it with Charlie's favorite alcohol, doing something that a normal teenager would do, but she didn't go through with it. She knew that she was already putting Charlie through a lot and she didn't want to make it worse for him. So she wandered back upstairs to her room to sit in the old rocking chair and looked out the window. She supposed she had the best room in the entire house. She faced the back edge of the forest, and the way outside light reflected into her room as the sun began to set was kind of beautiful. She never really took the time to admire it before.

But as dusk began to settle in, the house started to get eerie. She always hated it when Charlie stayed at the station late especially since she now knew what was out there. Night was when most of the things in the real world came out to play. And by play she meant, "a game of cat and mouse," "the hunter becomes the hunted," or "make people mysteriously disappear, yum yum." The choices were endless.

She pulled an old quilt around herself, snuggling into the warmth, and sipped on her coke until it felt like she needed to burp—the coldness of the drink made her shiver a bit. The clock behind her blinked its little red numbers, and darkness gathered deeper and deeper into the corners of her room. The wind made the screens on the doors and windows rattle.

When Bella was a little girl, and Renee's income could only afford her an apartment, she made a game of listening to the sounds in the building as everyone came to and from, making up stories about them. Bella learned from a young age that most apartment complexes weren't really quiet if you listened close enough. After a while the sounds would become familiar, almost distinctive, and Bella soon found all those noises to be comforting in an odd way. She vaguely remembered how their neighbors use to play soft piano tunes to get their newborn asleep. That had always been nice to listen to despite the fact the tenants below them use to fight every time rent was due.

Houses were different, though. They creaked, murmured and groaned all on their own. And they got creepy when night came around. An empty house at dusk would start to talk even if you weren't listening, no matter how old it was. That was why Bella always had her music playing. But she still felt she wouldn't be able to hear if anything was sneaking up on her.

She wondered if ghosts and poltergeists were real. They had to be if vampires were. She didn't know how much more of the supernatural she could handle, though.

As she listened to the music and waited for Charlie, Bella got the feeling that something was watching her. She brushed the sensation off as her imagination going haywire. Nights were scary when you were waiting for someone to come home. Especially since she had witnessed things that only happen when you're alone and no one else was there to verify it. TV and movies would've had a field day with her life. In fact, it almost felt like she was living in one of those horrible Lifetime drama movies.

But Bella knew things could go very, very wrong. Not only because of vampires, but simply because Charlie was a cop. His line of profession was dangerous all on its own, and Bella remembered how much Renee hated Charlie's job. Her mother had always been worried that she would get a call late one night about how Charlie lost his life in some robbery gone wrong, or a standoff, or something along those lines.

As seven after ten rolled around the house was still empty. It started to groan and squeak as the wind grew louder. And it wasn't the soft and sweet whistling that was just loud enough to make you feel cozy and snuggle up.

It was like a moan, with big glass teeth ready to cut you into tiny pieces. It only sounded like that when something dangerous was coming, something different.

Tonight the wind sounded like that. Bella hoped that Charlie would be home soon. She finished her drink and fished for a pencil on her desk and started her homework. She started off with math, wanting to get her toughest subject out of the way and made her way to the last subject. She easily got into her English homework, writing different paragraphs, imagining the story coming to life—explained vibrant colors coming off the pages, taste filling her mouth as descriptive perfume wafted under her nose. Bella had written a lot of stories, especially after Renee would leave her in the care of a babysitter, and one of her teachers had discovered Bella's passion for reading.

When Bella thought about her first real memory of visiting Charlie, the smell of paper and the sound of Grandma Swan scrubbing something—she had always been cleaning—came to mind. She was always up doing something, the Alzheimer's made her forget that she had already washed the floors, wiped down the windows, or vacuumed a hundred times before. Grandma Swan had taught Bella all about keeping the place clean as a whistle and how to cook, too. She would even read her to sleep some nights and it had all been classical, Victorian era stories. But there had been nights where Bella would cry herself to sleep, missing Charlie who was at work, wanting her mother, not understanding why her grandmother didn't recognize her, and lonely and terrified of the sounds that Forks made.

What did a five-year old understand about Alzheimer's? Or her parents not living together? Or even that staying with Charlie wasn't forever?

Full night fell quickly. The clock continued to blink and Bella got up to use the bathroom. Once she settled back in the chair, she noticed something silver—glowing with a dim illuminating light source. She squinted and tried to see what was lurking in the forest when she noticed that the lightest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen were staring right back at her. It took Bella a minute to realize that _the glowing silver was_ _the girl's skin_ , but that was impossible. No one—no creature—had silver glowing skin. That was outrageous of her to even think, but something of a darker silver twitched behind the girl's back and Bella could've swore that she saw gigantic wings. She also noticed that the girl was dressed in leaves, covering her intimate areas like she was some sort of forest nymph.

Bella pressed the heels of her hand to her eyes until she saw nothing but sparkles. When she looked up again the strange girl was gone. With a shake of her head, Bella went downstairs to grab another drink and she had really considered reaching for the alcohol now that her mind was playing tricks on her. But since Charlie rarely drank anything he stashed away that was stronger than beer, he definitely would notice and he wouldn't be pleased at all.

Bella went on to finishing her homework. Once she finished she had picked up a random book that she hadn't finished reading laid down on her bed. The clock kept blinking. She finished her warm glass of milk and fell asleep with the book on her chest, the top of the page creased, showing the next lines of work.

When she work up the next morning, Charlie had already left for work.

 **.**

 _November_

Lauren was with Tyler on the shores of La Push when it looked like a storm was about to roll in, and having lost her car privileges and Tyler's license revoked for at least a year, they were left to their own two feet to carry them back to town. They reached Tyler's house first and he gave Lauren a goodnight kiss before he watched her walk down the block as she started for home.

Rain sheeted down lightly like a mist on the darkening street that was just a block away from Lauren's home. She stepped easily over the puddles of water and mud. Even in the thickest of fog she could find her way home without the fear of getting lost. There was no fog tonight, but the darkness and onslaught of rain was common for Forks.

There was movement on the other side of the road in Lauren's peripheral vision, on the outer edge of the forest, and she snapped her head in that direction. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel monument situated on the side of the road started to make its way towards Lauren. Neither marble or stone, the girl possessed arms and legs. Her torso was practically naked except for the shimmering foliage that looked like leaves covering her breasts, and her long skirt whisked around her long legs like the wind, and her feet were bare. She came to stand a few feet away from Lauren, the ends of her black hair dripping from the rain. It slid down her face, which almost reminded Lauren of the russet coloring of the Quileute.

Lauren's hand crept to the mace in her bag. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The girl's mouth hinted at a smile.

"Don't try anything funny. My father's a politician," Lauren warned. "So tell me who you are."

"Politician?" The girl tilted her head to the side. "Or a drunk?"

Lauren pointed the spray mace at the girl. "Take that back! My father isn't a drunk. Even if he was, how would you know that? You're not from here," she added clumsily. She was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold.

The girl lazily shook her head. "You're father couldn't do anything to me either way. He wouldn't stand a chance against my father."

Lauren bristled at the insult. "And who's your father?" She knew that she was right in her assessment of the girl not being from town, but she would remember the girl's name and see what dirt she could dig up on her.

The girl walked up and pushed Lauren's hand to the side. She suddenly looked younger than Lauren had presumed, maybe a year or two younger then Lauren.

"A king," the girl responded.

Lauren was still shaking, but she laughed. "You're a fucking lunatic," she said as she laughed in the girl's face. "Get out of my way."

The ground beneath Lauren titled. Bursts of multicolored fireworks popped behind her eyes. She hunched over with her fingernails digging into her skull. It was like pressure she had never felt before was pushing her down. She looked up at the girl, gasping for air and blinking rapidly as her vision blurred. Her body was reacting to an unseeable force and her mind raced like it was no longer under her control.

The girl grabbed Lauren by the hair and jerked her head back harshly until Lauren was looking up. "Now listen carefully because I'll only say this once. I need something from you. And you're going to give it to me. I won't leave until I have it. Do you understand me?"

Gritting her teeth, Lauren shook her head to express her defiance as she tried to fight back. Her nails dug into the girl's flesh on her hand, but it had no effect. She even tried to spit at the girl, but it just trickled down her chin. Her tongue refused to form words.

"I need your oath of fealty," the girl said. "Mean it and swear it."

Lauren tried to force a scream through her throat, but all that came out was a choking sound as her throat constricted. Her right knee buckled as if someone had kicked it from behind, but no one was there. She stumbled forward into the puddle of water and mud. She bent to the side and looked up.

"Swear it," the girl pressed. Her accent—Irish? Maybe Scottish?—came through.

Lauren felt the contents in her stomach rush up to her throat. Heat flushed around her neck and Lauren tried to scream again, but still nothing came out. She didn't know how, but she knew that the girl was responsible for the invisible force and the nausea and the feeling of such weakness. It wouldn't leave until she said whatever the girl wanted her to say, so Lauren would swallow her pride if that meant she walked away with her life, but she would destroy the girl later on for humiliating her.

"I swear it," Lauren said quickly, but the bite in her tone was obvious. "I swear that you have my fealty, ok? You got it."

The girl lifted Lauren to her feet. "I'll call upon you whenever I see fit. You won't tell anyone about me or what has transpired here. I will know if you do, and you won't like the consequences. So be a good slave and do as you're told, and this will go smoothly."

"A….slave?!" Lauren's whole frame shook under the pressure of her rage. " _I am a human being!_ "

"You are a daughter of Adam," the girl said with a sneer that looked like a sliver of a smile.

Lauren's response was on the tip of her tongue, but it was swallowed. Her next words shook just like her body was. "What did you say?"

"You are a descendant of the biblical first man Adam. You are nothing but flesh and bone. You were created from mud." The girl's light blue eyes clashed with Lauren's dark ones. "And you are nothing."

Lauren knew the story of how the earth was created in seven days. Her parents use to enroll her in Saturday school after church whenever they didn't have a babysitter for her so she had sat through hours of reading passages from the Bible, barely listening to the stories. But the girl's words sent a chill up Lauren's spine. "Who are you?"

The girl simply smiled. She turned and began to walk away, and a part of Lauren wanted to go after her, to attack and demand that her questions be answered, but her legs still wouldn't respond to her command. Still standing, blinking through the rain, she saw two extremely thin wings that appeared to be made of glass on the back of the girl's torso. They narrowed to form an upside-down V.

"Are you—are you an angel?" Lauren called out. "Those are angel wings, aren't they?"

The girl—the supposed angel, possibly fallen if Lauren remembered correctly—didn't look back. She left Lauren to dwell in her thoughts.

"What am I supposed to do, anyway?" Lauren shouted at the retreating figure. "You didn't tell me anything!"

The girl disappeared into the night right before Lauren's disbelieving eyes, and only a sinister laughter resonated in the wind.

 **.**

 _December_

 _He walked along the off beaten path of the forest, his bare feet not touching the ground as he moved too fast for human eyes to see. The floor beneath him gave away signs of a disturbance, but it just looked like the wind was blowing everything in one direction and then another._

 _It sounded like a hornets nest was wrestling around up in her brain. She wanted to open her mouth, she wanted to call out to him—to tell him to stay, that she missed him—but he was already gone. Disappearing and then reappearing before she could get her words out. The buzzing in her brain spread like wildfire throughout her entire body, rendering her speechless and motionless._

 _She knew it was a dream, more so a nightmare, but they had never started out like this. She had one every night, and they seemed to have gotten worse as the winter season was approaching. But this one wasn't the usual nightmare where she envisioned him leaving over and over again, repeating those horrible words like they somehow had released him from a terrible fate._

 _No. This dream was hypersensitive. She could see how he shined like a diamond when the sunlight hit his skin, she could smell the murkiness of the forest and his natural musk smell with that curious hint of underlying lavender. The way his button down shirt wasn't tucked into his dark washed jeans, but every line and crease was gone. The silver crest that rested on a black band around his wrist would reflect in the light, shining in her eyes whenever he was off in the distant._

 _The sun didn't look like the sun, though. It was almost like there was a gigantic fluorescent light above her head. The annoying buzzing echoed louder in her head. That was why she couldn't speak—it was like static on the television, making her wince every time she tried to form a coherent thought to speak. It almost made her body feel like that tingly sensation before apart of her went numb. Pins and needles crept up her spine, trying to coax her into giving in to just standing there and staring. Like something was rotting her brain slowly._

 _Time slowed down, and everything stretched out like something from a cartoon. His speed didn't cease, though, it only got faster. It felt like a century for her to even look in the direction that he had once been in, and by the time she had finally caught up with him a door had came into view. Which was odd because why would a door—a plain steel door that had a soft, angelic glow behind it—be in the middle of the forest? The hornets had crawled out of her brain and were now picking at skin, trying to forge a home underneath it._

 _There was something behind the door; something that smelt of rotten flesh and iron. The smell sent a shiver up her spine. It was like the feeling she got when she had stupidly went after James on her own, which almost got her killed and thrown into a world she didn't want to be joining just yet, but in the end it would've been worth it all if he had been by her side._

 _Or like her faithful eighteenth birthday where she found herself yet again staring into the eyes of hungry vampire who didn't see her as a human being, but only as food to be consumed as if they hadn't had anything to eat in years. But that fear had been greater than the one she had felt when she was with James. The nomadic vampire made his intentions very clear the second he got a whiff of her, but her birthday truly scared her. That had been a vampire she trusted, a vampire who had fought to keep her safe and even killed one of his own when her life had been on the line. She had felt like the blood had drained from her entire being when she had stared into the eyes of what a true vampire looked like._

 _But this feeling was worse. Much, much worse._

Don't leave me _, she wanted to say._ Please, I love you too much. Don't leave.

 _He kept moving too fast for her to see, and the buzzing got so bad that it felt like pins and needles were pricking at every inch of her skin. She struggled to move, to reach out towards him, but she was stuck in place._

 _He never stopped. He just kept moving closer and closer towards the door, and the dream started to close like a camera lens; darkness gingerly eating at the edges of her subconscious._

 _She was still trying to talk when he reached out to turn the knob, and his movements were slow for the first time. And the light behind it was blinding, and it laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed…._

Bella came awake all at once, jolting like she had been electrocuted back to life. The book fell off her lap and she scrambled to catch it before it had hit the floor. Her head felt like someone was taking a jackhammer and having a good ole' time. She moaned and blinked. It was a usual grey day, but sunrise was fast approaching.

The house was still and cold, though.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her head was throbbing and her body felt ice cold, almost numb. She had fallen asleep sitting up right again, only to slouch in her slumber and have the hardcover edge of the book dig into her stomach. Whenever she had a decent nights sleep without a night terror, Charlie didn't dare to try and move her. She rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and listened for the heater, the sound of the early morning news, and for the heavy footsteps of Charlie moving around.

There was nothing, though. And her alarm clock had been turned off. She vaguely recalled something loud and annoying piercing through her subconscious, trying to wake her up, and she fumbling to turn it off. Thankfully she was on break.

Bella rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of socks before she shuffled out into the hallway. The quilt was wrapped around her shoulders tightly, thick enough to keep her warm. She made her way down to the other bedroom, the one next to the stairs.

The door was pried opened, but the blinds were shut. Bella peered inside and saw Charlie's bed empty. The bed wasn't made, though, and the smell of his cologne lingered in the air. At least she knew that he had come home. Charlie never made his bed in the morning.

She took notice to the paper pinned to the door.

 _I'll be home late tonight. Another kidnapping took place over night. There's some money in the cookie jar if you want to order food, or go out and do something. Be careful, it's supposed to snow. Dad._

Bella's heart felt heavy. For the past three months children had been disappearing from all over in the Seattle area, and the crimes were getting dangerously close to Forks. But Bella knew that there was more to the case then the news and Charlie would provide. Something odd was going on, something that the police had never seen before, and Bella—being Bella—wanted to know what it was. She just didn't have the energy to do anything, though.

Bella made it down the stairs like an old woman, holding onto the ice cold banister.

She was met with the expectant silence, as per usual.

The smell of coffee wafted its way from the kitchen into her nose, another sign that Charlie hadn't left too long ago. The remote had been left on the couch and a plate sprinkled in crumbs was alone in the sink. The cup of coffee was left in the microwave. The toaster had been left plugged into the wall.

She shuffled her way into the living room, seeing the red light of the cable box blinking on and off. The house was just so cold. She went over and punched the buttons to turn the heater on with stiff fingers.

The heat clicked on and she could hear it moving through the vents as it shook and rattled itself to life. She pulled the quilt tighter around her as a blast of cold air came out first. She walked softly towards the door, yanking it open to see if there was anything in the mailbox.

The cold hit her like a sledgehammer, making her eyes water and stinging her skin. The yard and the road was painted in a sheet of white, bits of green grass poked through under the mounds of the heavy, wet snow. The street was almost pristine.

Charlie's cruiser was gone. The whole neighborhood was under the spell of the cold, thick blanket.

That's when memories started to hit her like a freight train. She shut the door and locked it; stumbling upstairs with a mother of all headaches. She banged down the hall and into the bathroom, throwing herself in front of the toilet as the dry heaves started. She didn't produce anything but bile, even though tears ran down her hot face with every retch. She stopped long enough to cry, resting her head against the cool seat of the toilet. She hadn't told Charlie about how bad she got sometimes. He was already struggling to do his best, and dealing with her night terrors had aged him a bit. She didn't want to think about the look of pity mixed with just the tiniest bit of disgust he would give her if he knew that she got so upset she started to physically get sick.

She didn't know how long she stayed there on her knees. By the time it was over she could only think about one thing.

 _He's not coming back,_ she told herself. _Why am I so weak? He doesn't want me. He said it himself._

Except she held onto the hope that he would come back. That he would change his mind and come back, remembering the times they had together, no matter how short. He had to feel still feel something for her. He had to be coming back because she refused to believe anything else. Misery loved company, and it definitely liked Bella so much that it threw in its good friend denial.

 _Maybe he'll call one day_.

He wouldn't call; he would just show up. It was why she kept her window opened for so long. He would always just appear to her no matter what. It was like sunrise, or the tide.

 _So maybe something is still there._

She rested her forehead against her knees, curling into the fetal position on the bathroom floor.

The practical part of her wanted to shake her and stand up. It wanted to get the laundry done and keep track of how many boxes she was going to have to ship to Florida to Renee and Phil for Christmas. It whispered to her in a clam, cool voice. _Did you hear me, Bella? You've got to get it together._

"I know," Bella whispered. It was the only sound besides the heat pumping through the vents. But her heart beat sounded as loud as thunder to her. And her mouth tasted foul.

 _So he wasn't coming back. But maybe he still felt something._

Maybe he did. That was the second best thing. She thought she could live the rest of her life knowing that he still felt something. Because she refused to believe that he didn't. He could stay away all he liked—he could do that until the day she died, but she would never believe that he didn't feel an inkling of affection for her.

 _What if he doesn't? Answer me that, Bella. What if he doesn't?_

That's what she was trying not to think about. He would always feel something for her, even if it wasn't one of intimacy. He'd never completely forget about her anyway. He had once told her that vampires had perfect memory; all it took was one glance or encounter and that was it. So she couldn't imagine what almost a year could engulf into his brain.

It felt like she had a fever. So did her cheeks. Her hair hung down in wavy stings, a darker brown with threads of red; darker and thicker than Renee's. She felt sweaty all over, and whoever was hammering away in her head was going in on her temple now. Her stomach growled, but she didn't have the energy to satisfy her hunger.

It felt like hours had passed by when she decided to get up. She couldn't stay curled up in the bathroom forever. Charlie would come home, and he'd be tired. Too tired to deal with her issues.

So she took a shower. She would then clean up the house so she had something to do, and so that Charlie could see that she actually did something today even if it was menial housework. He would be exhausted and hungry when he got home, so she'd have dinner ready and make sure everything was ready before he got home from work.

 _Yeah. Do that, Bella. That'll make just about everything ok. Just swell._

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her. She shrugged on a pair of sweats and a simple T-shirt. She took the quilt back to her room. She even tidied up her room before she did anything else.

Then she cleaned up the kitchen. After that, the living room. She'd then start dinner and have it ready.

That was the plan. That's what she was going to do.

So she did it.

 **.**

It started to snow again late in the afternoon, big wet, crystal flakes spun around in the air like some sort of theatrical dance as they landed on the ground like smooth beaten iron. Bella went to go look outside the window, shivering into the throw blanket. She still didn't have much in winter apparel; pretty much most of her wardrobe favored the spring and summer since she had spent majority of her life in sunny Phoenix, Arizona. She had even been down south before as a child, too, going to places like the Carolinas, Atlanta, Florida, Baton Rouge and many more place. Renee loved the sun and warm weather. Not only could she go out and do more things, but she loved to tanned. If Bella actually tanned instead of burning, then she probably would've had similar complexion to Jacob.

She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. It was a gray day, almost shrouded in darkness, and the snowflakes swirled around wildly. Each one was bigger than the next and thicker. They stuck to everything in sight, covering all of Forks in nothing but total whiteness. She remembered how she use to love spending Christmas in Forks because she never saw the snow back in Arizona. But she would get stuck home alone a lot. Seattle was always the busiest during the Christmas season with its crime rates, mainly due to shoplifting, and Charlie would always get called into the station to help out. That had been a major deciding factor for her to stay in Arizona for most of her life then on.

She had already done four loads of laundry. And the kitchen was spotless. The heater was still going; making the the house nice and warm. She had organized the gifts and boxes in the living room, packing some and arranging knickknacks. She had gone through the DVD collection and arranged them in alphabetical order just for the hell of it. Charlie wouldn't notice—he never did notice much of the little things. That had been something that drove Renee crazy, especially when she had been fishing for a compliment. But it had also been an endearing trait, too, somehow, showing that her parents had actually loved each other enough to put up with the other's quirks.

There was a pang in her chest.

She tried not to think about it.

Her stomach growled again, but she felt weird. If she ate, she was certain that she would just throw it back up. She had drank four glasses of water through the day, gulping them down like she had been dying of thirst in between her tasks. It seemed to calm her stomach down a bit, but it did nothing for her headache.

She watched as frost collected on the windows when she pulled the blinds up. The stretch of the front yard and street was clogged with snow. There had barely been a car in sight, but those who did pass by hadn't got stuck in the ever growing mass of snow.

None of them had been Charlie, though. She checked every time it sounded like a truck was making its way down the road. All their neighbors had pulled into their driveways or garages while the Swan's resident laid vacant. She didn't know how Charlie would be able to park once he got home. It looked like a monster truck couldn't get any of the snow to move to make a decent spot.

She had been in the living room absentmindedly watching TV when she heard something tapping from the kitchen.

 _Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tap—tap—tap._

She froze, feeling goosebumps rise hard and fast on her arms. Her head jerked in the direction, hair falling into her eyes.

She wondered what it was. She knew for a fact that it hadn't been the screen door on the back porch rattling. She knew that sound well enough.

The goosebumps didn't go away.

 _Tap. Tap._

Like a freshly manicured nail drumming gingerly against a windowpane. Bella felt her heart lurch into her throat and she began to shake. Then her mouth went dry, feeling like it smelt awful. She felt her fingers go numb.

She didn't know why she was freaking out. It could've been an neighbor asking to borrow the shovel or something.

But she got the feeling that it wasn't a neighbor. And whoever was at the back door certainly didn't want a shovel. Or maybe they did so they could bury her body afterwards.

That thought made her anxiety worse.

 _Oh shit, oh shit._

Then that odd faux calmness washed over her; like she had everything under control when she didn't. The daylight was fading fast now, and she had been too lazy to get up and turn on the lights. The streetlight barely did anything to help. And she knew that Charlie hadn't fixed the back porch light yet either.

Bella got up, walking on wooden legs that were shaking like a leaf. She picked up the remote, knowing that it would prove to be fruitless against an intruder, but she didn't want to walk in there empty handed. She didn't know the combination of the safe where Charlie kept his gun, and Bella wouldn't have dared tried to use that to defend herself. She would end up shooting herself instead.

 _Be quiet, Bella_. It was Charlie's voice in her head now, instructing her. He had taught her some basic survival skills in case of a home invasion situation. _Go to the other side of the hall and be quiet. It's coming from the kitchen. Remember what I taught you._

Bella edged down the hall, cursing the boxes and her two left feet when she stumbled and tripped a bit. The kitchen light had been left on, giving her a rectangular light that stopped at the foot of the stairs. The heater kicked off and the tapping got louder.

 _Tap—tap—tap._ There was a pause. _Tap—tap—tap._

Bella swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart wouldn't slow down. The muscles in her thigh shook like she had been running a hard marathon and then some. She wasn't graceful moving down the hall, probably making more noises than she wanted to, but she finally made it into the kitchen.

Charlie always told her that nothing could ever really prepare someone for a situation like this—unless the person had gone through it or something similar more than once—where it was all based on your instincts and reaction time. He had said that the paranoia sat in fast, and your peripheral vision would start to play tricks on you. That you had to focus on everything around you, but having your eyes flicker around frantically, trying to take in everything, would only end in failure.

Bella stepped further into the kitchen, seeing the sink, and the stove, and half of the kitchen table.

The window above the sink was empty, full of frost. That had calmed her nerves just a smidget. Her heart still pounded in her ears, though. She didn't know how it was possible, but her mouth felt even dryer.

 _Tap. Tap—tap—tap—tap—tap._

The sound had a little more force behind it now, like it was trying to get her attention.

Bella stepped into the kitchen.

The back door rested in between the counter and Charlie's chair at the table. When he sat down he couldn't see the door since his back was facing it. The door itself was old. Made of sheet metal and flimsy wires to make a screen that covered the latticed glass window, it wouldn't take much for an intruder to break it down.

Bella was fighting with her heart for control of her throat. She gasped far too loudly and almost dropped the remote. She could see who it was clearly through the wires of the screen, the fading light of the sun giving her just enough to see what exactly she was looking at.

The forest nymph was at her back door. Her eyes were trained on Bella, blue as blue could be and lighter than any gem. Her skin was silver and illuminating ever so slightly; she looked practically radiant. Her finger nail, which was long and pointed, tapped against the window in a playful manner this time. Her hair gave midnight a run for it's money and she looked too perfect as the snow wetted her hair. If Bella dared to get closer, she would've seen the ancient language that was long thought to be a hoax written across the nymph's body. But what caught her attention the most were the wings. They looked like dragonfly wings, but that was impossible.

What she was seeing was impossible.

She would've known a vampire anywhere. But the nymph wasn't one. She was something that Bella had never seen before, but she wasn't all too sure if it was _real_. For all Bella knew, her subconscious was finally deteriorating from her lack of human contact and it was starting to conjure up images of beings that were just as otherworldly and beautiful as….them.

Those so blue eyes that burned like fire locked with Bella's. The nymph cocked its head to the side like it had heard something from afar, but there was no mistaking that smirk.

The nymph was enjoying seeing Bella in fear.

Bella let out a dry barking sound and her back hit the wall; smacking her hips against the cabinets.

The nymph removed her finger from the window, using the hand to give Bella a little wave. And before Bella could blink, the nymph was gone.

 **.**

 _January_

The little girl was seated behind a desk. Her white spring dress looked to made out of cheap material, almost similar to surgical gauze, and it had certainly seen better days—and possibly a fire or two. Her legs were resting on the desk, on top of sheets of paper that had absentminded doodles on them. All the pictures looked like deformed giants with monstrous teeth.

A man entered the room without knocking and leaned against the desk. "She's here."

The little girl looked up. Her face was young and kind, but her smile was crowded with small, jagged teeth. And it wasn't the usual amount a child her age would have. About fifty to sixty were crammed in there.

"Princess Gricenchos," she said ever so politely with a smile. When the Princess grimaced, she covered her mouth with a dirty hand. "Oh dear, I ought to be more cautious. You think I'm ugly."

The Princess's face said it all, and she didn't even bother to deny it. That was because changelings _were_ ugly; even horrifying, especially with their humongous black eyes.

The changeling gestured towards the heavy, high black chair. "Please, sit and talk with me. Tell me why you are here."

The Princess sat down and inspected the changeling closely. It was odd to see one still stuck with a child's form. She stood out from majority of the changelings who were growing babes, or already old. Her imagine certainly would fool even the best con artist, but those jagged teeth and black eyes made her just like the rest of her kind.

When the Princess didn't say anything right away, the little girl began to fidget.

"I've been hearing a lot of commotion," the Princess said, she scraped her nails against the wooden arm of the chair. "And it all has to do with your kind. Something about an alarming number of castoffs being brought and dying in the human world."

The little girl nodded, staring at the Princess. "I have everything under control, I assure you."

The Princess leaned back in her chair. The little girl's dull black eyes got impossibly wider. "I somehow doubt that….Bríd."

The changeling flinched at the rotten way the Princess had said her current alias.

"I'm not surprised to see that you're the one who is in the middle of this scandal," the Princess said. "It's been sometime since the last one, but no one's forgotten. You see, I have a business arrangement for you and it would be satisfying if it was reciprocal."

"What do you mean? I haven't done anything."

"Oh, darling," the Princess said with an unwelcoming smile. "Don't be silly. Of course you've done something. You're becoming an issue, and it's only a matter of time before it gets worse. You'll do this one thing for me, and in return, I'll make it so that my father and the other royals will leave you be, so you won't have to live out the rest of your life evading your death."

Bríd watched her, trying to see the reason why the Princess had even bothered to make a personal appearance. "What do you want?" She sounded more than nervous.

"Don't look so scared. I won't ask you to do anything that you wouldn't do on your own accord." The Princess had a look in her eyes that Bríd didn't like. "While child snatching is hardly a crime, we _have_ fallen behind on the times. We need a new method to be more discrete."

"What does that have to do with me, though? I am just simple, old me."

"You have a knack for this," the Princess said, crossing her legs and smoothing out her skirt. "An imaginative mind. Your opportunistic ways makes you immeasurably useful to me. If it's agreeable, I'll have your people go and use a new method once a week to snatch a child until we've found one that's perfect and won't draw too much attention."

"You want to help us?" Bríd's owlish eyes were like those of a dead fish, but she was certainly surprised. She shook her head. "I mean, when do you want to start?"

"Tomorrow, this time in Forks, to throw the authorities off."

"But Forks is too small. It's why we've moved to Seattle."

"Forks is vulnerable," the Princess said. "I'm sure you've noticed."

Bríd had heard that the coven of Cold Ones had abandoned the town months ago and that a small pack of shapeshifters now prowled around, but solely on their own turf. She nodded her head.

"This town is drawing away from us. Material objects cloud their mind, and their attentions have strayed from what should fill their hearts at best. But we do need all the adulation we can get. If that means going through parents begging and praying on a national level for their child back, then so be it."

"What do you want _me_ to do?"

The Princess's smile was vicious. "Now we're getting somewhere. Your track record is not in your favor, as I'm sure you know. You couldn't even appeal on your own behalf without any of royals being too happy to provide your demise. But it'll be easy for me to get some sort of pardon for you. All I ask is that you personally have a hand in this experiment, too. For you do know how to get them to acknowledge us."

"Why do we _still_ need their acknowledgment?" What came out of Bríd's mouth seemed to have irritated the Princess.

"Because we've done our part, and it's time that they picked up where they left off. Is it hopeless to think that they could love us again?"

"They don't even remember that we exist."

"Then not to love us, but to recognize. Because if they don't it'll turn into fear again, and hate, and they'll want to exterminate us. We've been down that road and I know for certain that no one wishes to go back to those days. But if we don't try something we'll spiral down to those dark years again."

Bríd knew that was the truth. A spine chilling sensation ran through her body. Those had been dark days.

The Princess sneered. "They can become quite dangerous when they put their minds to it. Their admiration pleases us, and our presence us to excite the children, even if they didn't realize it was us they were happy to see."

Bríd gasped. "You want to live off children?"

The Princess shrugged. "They're sweet and naïve. Their attention and admiration will help to sustain us."

"And if that form doesn't work?"

The Princess gave a tight smile and looked over her shoulders. She noticed a tall, lanky girl standing in the hallway, softly running her fingers over the gash on her throat. "How old was she?"

Bríd nodded towards the girl. "Just a babe, really. The family didn't know _what_ she was, but they knew she wasn't their daughter. They slit her throat not too long after she was given to them."

"Terrible, isn't it?" It was rhetorical question because everyone knew exactly how horrific it was. "That's what will happen to us all if we can't find a way."

Bríd ran a claw-like hand through her hair, pulling out a clump of it. "There are those who believe that going back to living off blood and sacrifice is the best route to take."

"Those like your sister?"

Bríd grimaced. "She was born heartless."

"Yes," the Princess hummed in agreement. She never got into the business of snatching children, or luring them into their world, but knew that there were those who callously snatched a child away simply because they were pretty. And while her people had always been attracted to pretty things—especially to children with cherubic faces and beaten gold hair—she had never agreed with feeding off of them. "I'm going to assume that the massive media attention is her doing."

Bríd glanced up at the Princess. "I've warned her, I have, but she doesn't want to listen. It's not so bad, though. My sister has been keeping them as trinkets. She's not too cruel to them."

The Princess started her down. "I've talked to a boy, who goes by the name of Mackie Doyle."

"Oh?" Bríd's child-like voice got impeccably high.

"He said that your sister tore through the _real_ Malcolm Doyle's throat when he was just an infant."

"That was one time," Bríd said quickly. She began to run her claws through her hair frantically and more clumps began to fall out. "She did tear out his throat, but it was very quick. I suppose it was even painless."

"You can't be sure of that," the Princess said, cutting off the rambling.

Bríd paused for a moment. She winded a handful of hair around her wrist and then unwinded it, repeating the action. "On second thought, I do imagine it would hurt."

"When your sister talks about sacrificing, she talks about murder. And you know how we feel about murder."

"Oh, no, no, no! Not murder—sacrifices." Bríd gave her a tight smile. "I promise you that she has evolved."

The Princess shook her head, laughing. "You have made your mistakes in the past, but your sister? Oh, your sister has made a ghastly terrible one."

Bríd swallowed the lump in her throat. "He poses no threat to…."

"Mackie Doyle is no concern of mine. I rather like the boy. But your sister knows the rules. She should have returned him to our world twelve years later, but she didn't. She left him in that world, hoping he would die so that she wouldn't have to return the child she killed. I can't imagine she was too pleased to learn that he survived."

Bríd didn't answer. She knew it was useless lying to the Princess. It was dangerous lying to any of the nobles, and it was no use trying to defend her sister, whose grave was dug a very, very long time ago.

The Princess laced her fingers together and leaned forward. Bríd looked at her and was enraptured by her beauty. She was glowing and beautiful, smiling like she couldn't harm a fly. Like she was just a docile, innocent princess. Her eyes were round and perfectly blue, and Bríd couldn't help but smile back because she felt compelled to.

"Promise me," the Princess said. She leaned in closer. "If you promise to work for me and help us evolve, I'll make sure that you can come home. I'll make sure that you will be safe from your sister's clutches, and you won't have to suffer for her crimes ever again."

"I promise," Bríd said, because her home was something she had longed for, for centuries. And because she wanted to finally put her sister behind her. "I promise."

 **.**

 _(The Start of New Moon, Chapter 4. Waking up)_

Charlie's fist came down on the table. "That's it, Bella! I'm sending you home."

Bella looked up from her cereal, which she was pondering rather than eating, and stared at Charlie in shock. She hadn't been following the conversation—actually, she hadn't been aware that they were having a conversation—and she wasn't sure what he meant.

"I am home," she mumbled, confused.

"I'm sending you to Renee, to Jacksonville," he clarified.

Charlie watched with exasperation as she slowly grasped the meaning of his words.

"What did I do?" Bella felt her face crumple. It was so unfair. Her behavior had been above reproach for the past four months. After that first week, which neither of them ever mentioned, she hadn't missed a day of school or work. Her grades were perfect. She never broke curfew—she never went anywhere from which to break curfew in the first place. She only very rarely served leftovers.

Charlie was scowling.

"You didn't do anything. That's the problem. You never do anything."

"You want me to get into trouble?" She wondered, her eyebrows pulling together in mystification. She made an effort to pay attention. It wasn't easy. She was so used to tuning everything out, her ears felt stopped up.

"Trouble would be better than this... this moping around all the time!"

That stung a bit. She had been careful to avoid all forms of moroseness, moping included.

"I am not moping around."

"Wrong word," he grudgingly conceded. "Moping would be better—that would be doing something. You're just... lifeless, Bella. I think that's the word I want."

This accusation struck home. Bella sighed and tried to put some animation into her response.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Her apology sounded a little flat, even to herself. She'd thought she'd been fooling him. Keeping Charlie from suffering was the whole point of all this effort. How depressing to think that the effort had been wasted.

"I don't want you to apologize."

She sighed. "Then tell me what you do want me to do."

"Bella," he hesitated, scrutinizing her reaction to his next words. "Honey, you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know."

"I know that." Her accompanying grimace was limp and unimpressive.

"Listen, honey. I think that—that maybe you need some help."

"Help?"

He paused, searching for the words again. "When your mother left," he began, frowning, "and took you with her." He inhaled deeply. "Well, that was a really bad time for me."

"I know, Dad," she mumbled.

"But I handled it," he pointed out. "Honey, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped it would get better." He stared at me and I looked down quickly. "I think we both know it's not getting better."

"I'm fine."

He ignored her. "Maybe, well, maybe if you talked to someone about it. A professional."

"You want me to see a shrink?" Her voice was a shade sharper as she realized what he was getting at.

"Maybe it would help."

"And maybe it wouldn't help one little bit."

She didn't know much about psychoanalysis, but she was pretty sure that it didn't work unless the subject was relatively honest. Sure, she could tell the truth—if she wanted to spend the rest of her life in a padded cell.

He examined her obstinate expression, and switched to another line of attack.

"It's beyond me, Bella. Maybe your mother—"

"Look," Bella said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight, if you want. I'll call Jess or Angela."

"That's not what I want," he argued, frustrated. "I don't think I can live through seeing you try harder. I've never seen anyone trying so hard. It hurts to watch."

She pretended to be dense, looking down at the table. "I don't understand, Dad. First you're mad because I'm not doing anything, and then you say you don't want me to go out."

"I want you to be happy—no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."

Bella's eyes flashed up with the first small spark of feeling she'd had in too long to contemplate.

"I'm not leaving," she said.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"I'm in my last semester of school—it would screw everything up."

"You're a good student—you'll figure it out."

"I don't want to crowd Mom and Phil."

"Your mother's been dying to have you back."

"Florida is too hot."

His fist came down on the table again. "We both know what's really going on here, Bella, and it's not good for you." He took a deep breath. "It's been months. No calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him."

She glowered at him. The heat almost, but not quite, reached her face. It had been a long time since she had blushed with any emotion.

This whole subject was utterly forbidden, as he was well aware.

"I'm not waiting for anything. I don't expect anything," she said in a low monotone.

"Bella—," Charlie began, his voice thick.

"I have to get to school," she interrupted, standing up and yanking her untouched breakfast from the table. She dumped her bowl in the sink without pausing to wash it out. She couldn't deal with any more conversation.

"I'll make plans with Jessica," she called over her shoulder as she strapped on her school bag, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe I won't be home for dinner. We'll go to Port Angeles and watch a movie."

She was out the front door before he could react.

In her haste to get away from Charlie, Bella ended up being one of the first ones to school. The plus side was that she got a really good parking spot. The downside was that she had free time on her hands, and she tried to avoid free time at all costs.

Quickly, before she could start thinking about Charlie's accusations, she pulled out her Calculus book. She flipped it open to the section they should be starting today, and tried to make sense of it. Reading math was even worse than listening to it, but she was getting better at it. In the last several months, she'd spent ten times the amount of time on Calculus than she'd ever spent on math before. As a result, she was managing to keep in the range of a low A. She knew Mr. Varner felt her improvement was all due to his superior teaching methods. And if that made him happy, she wasn't going to burst his bubble.

She forced herself to keep at it until the parking lot was full, and she ended up rushing to English. They were working on Animal Farm, an easy subject matter. She didn't mind communism; it was a welcome change from the exhausting romances that made up most of the curriculum. She settled into her seat, pleased by the distraction of Mr. Berty's lecture.

Time moved easily while she was in school. The bell rang all too soon. She started repacking her bag.

"Bella?"

She recognized Mike's voice, and she knew what his next words would be before he said them.

"Are you working tomorrow?"

She looked up. He was leaning across the aisle with an anxious expression. Every Friday he asked her the same question. Never mind that she hadn't taken so much as a sick day. Well, with one exception, months ago. But he had no reason to look at her with such concern. She was a model employee.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, isn't it?" She said. Having just had it pointed out to her by Charlie, Bella realized how lifeless her voice really sounded.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "See you in Spanish." He waved once before turning his back. He didn't bother walking her to class anymore.

She trudged off to Calculus with a grim expression. This was the class where she sat next to Jessica.

It had been weeks, maybe months, since Jess had even greeted her when she passed her in the hall. She knew she had offended her with her antisocial behavior, and she was sulking. It wasn't going to be easy to talk to her now—especially to ask her to do me a favor. Bella weighed her options carefully as she loitered outside the classroom, procrastinating.

She wasn't about to face Charlie again without some kind of social interaction to report. She knew she couldn't lie, though the thought of driving to Port Angeles and back alone—being sure her odometer reflected the correct mileage, just in case he checked—was very tempting. Jessica's mom was the biggest gossip in town, and Charlie was bound to run into Mrs. Stanley sooner rather than later. When he did, he would no doubt mention the trip. Lying was out.

With a sigh, Bella shoved the door open.

Mr. Varner gave her a dark look—he'd already started the lecture. She hurried to her seat. Jessica didn't look up as I sat next to her. She was glad that she had fifty minutes to mentally prepare herself.

This class flew by even faster than English. A small part of that speed was due to her goody-goody preparation this morning in the truck—but mostly it stemmed from the fact that time always sped up when she was looking forward to something unpleasant.

She grimaced when Mr. Varner dismissed the class five minutes early. He smiled like he was being nice.

"Jess?" Bella's nose wrinkled as she cringed, waiting for her to turn on her.

She twisted in her seat to face her, eyeing Bella incredulously. "Are you talking to me, Bella?"

"Of course." She widened her eyes to suggest innocence.

"What? Do you need help with Calculus?" Her tone was a tad sour.

"No." She shook my head. "Actually, I wanted to know if you would... go to the movies with me tonight? I really need a girls' night out." The words sounded stiff, like badly delivered lines, and she looked suspicious.

"Why are you asking me?" she asked, still unfriendly.

"You're the first person I think of when I want girl time." Bella smiled, and she hoped the smile looked genuine. It was probably true. Jessica was at least the first person she thought of when she wanted to avoid Charlie. It amounted to the same thing.

She seemed a little mollified. "Well, I don't know."

"Do you have plans?"

"No... I guess I can go with you. What do you want to see?"

"I'm not sure what's playing," Bella hedged. This was the tricky part. She racked her brain for a clue—hadn't she heard someone talk about a movie recently? Seen a poster? "How about that one with the female president?"

She looked at her oddly. "Bella, that one's been out of the theater _forever_."

"Oh." Bella frowned. "Is there anything you'd like to see?"

Jessica's natural bubbliness started to leak out in spite of herself as she thought out loud. "Well, there's that new romantic comedy that's getting great reviews. I want to see that one. And my dad just saw Dead End and he really liked it."

Bella grasped at the promising title. "What's that one about?"

"Zombies or something. He said it was the scariest thing he'd seen in years."

"That sounds perfect." She'd rather deal with real zombies than watch a romance.

"Okay." Jessica seemed surprised by her response. Bella tried to remember if she liked scary movies, but she wasn't sure. "Do you want me to pick you up after school?" Jessica offered.

"Sure."

Jessica smiled at Bella with tentative friendliness before she left. Her answering smile was just a little late, but she thought that Jessica saw it.

The rest of the day passed quickly, her thoughts focused on planning for tonight. She knew from experience that once she got Jessica talking, she would be able to get away with a few mumbled responses at the appropriate moments. Only minimal interaction would be required.

The thick haze that blurred her days now was sometimes confusing. She was surprised when she found herself in her room, not clearly remembering the drive home from school or even opening the front door. But that didn't matter. Losing track of time was the most she asked from life.

She didn't fight the haze as she turned to her closet. The numbness was more essential in some places than in others. She barely registered what she was looking at as she slid the door aside to reveal the pile of rubbish on the left side of her closet, under the clothes she never wore.

Her eyes did not stray toward the black garbage bag that held her present from that last birthday, did not see the shape of the stereo where it strained against the black plastic; she didn't think of the bloody mess her nails had been when she'd finished clawing it out of the dashboard.

Bella yanked the old purse she rarely used off the nail it hung from, and shoved the door shut.

Just then she heard a horn honking. She swiftly traded her wallet from her school bag into the purse. She was in a hurry, as if rushing would somehow make the night pass more quickly.

She glanced at herself in the hall mirror before she opened the door, arranging her features carefully into a smile and trying to hold them there.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," Bella told Jess as she climbed into the passenger seat, trying to infuse her tone with gratitude. It had been a while since she'd really thought about what she was saying to anyone besides Charlie. Jess was harder. She wasn't sure which were the right emotions to fake.

"Sure. So, what brought this on?" Jess wondered as she drove down Bella's street.

"Brought what on?"

"Why did you suddenly decide... to go out?" It sounded like she changed her question halfway through.

Bella shrugged. "Just needed a change."

She recognized the song on the radio then, and quickly reached for the dial. "Do you mind?" She asked.

"No, go ahead."

Bella scanned through the stations until she found one that was harmless. She peeked at Jess's expression as the new music filled the car.

Her eyes squinted. "Since when do you listen to rap?"

"I don't know," Bella said. "A while."

"You like this?" she asked doubtfully.

"Sure."

It would be much too hard to interact with Jessica normally if she had to work to tune out the music, too. She nodded her head, hoping she was in time with the beat.

"Okay..." She stared out the windshield with wide eyes.

"So what's up with you and Mike these days?" Bella asked quickly.

"You see him more than I do."

The question hadn't started her talking like she'd hoped it would.

"It's hard to talk at work," Bella mumbled, and then she tried again. "Have you been out with anyone lately?"

"Not really. I go out with Conner sometimes. I went out with Eric two weeks ago." She rolled her eyes, and Bella sensed a long story. She clutched at the opportunity.

"Eric _Yorkie_? Who asked who?"

She groaned, getting more animated. "He did, of course! I couldn't think of a nice way to say no."

"Where did he take you?" Bella demanded, knowing she would interpret her eagerness as interest. "Tell me all about it."

She launched into her tale, and Bella settled into her seat, more comfortable now. She paid strict attention, murmuring in sympathy and gasping in horror as called for. When she was finished with her Eric story, she continued into a Conner comparison without any prodding.

The movie was playing early, so Jess thought we should hit the twilight showing and eat later. Bella was happy to go along with whatever she wanted; after all, she was getting what she wanted—Charlie off her back.

Bella kept Jess talking through the previews, so she could ignore them more easily. But she got nervous when the movie started. A young couple was walking along a beach, swinging hands and discussing their mutual affection with gooey falseness. Bella resisted the urge to cover my ears and start humming. She had not bargained for a romance.

"I thought we picked the zombie movie," she hissed to Jessica.

"This _is_ the zombie movie."

"Then why isn't anyone getting eaten?" She asked desperately.

Jessica looked at Bella with wide eyes that were almost alarmed. "I'm sure that part's coming," she whispered.

"I'm getting popcorn. Do you want any?"

"No, thanks."

Someone shushed us from behind.

Bella took her time at the concession counter, watching the clock and debating what percentage of a ninety-minute movie could be spent on romantic exposition. She decided ten minutes was more than enough, but she paused just inside the theater doors to be sure. She could hear horrified screams blaring from the speakers, so she knew she'd waited long enough.

"You missed everything," Jess murmured when Bella slid back into her seat. "Almost everyone is a zombie now."

"Long line." Bella offered her some popcorn. She took a handful.

The rest of the movie was comprised of gruesome zombie attacks and endless screaming from the handful of people left alive, their numbers dwindling quickly. Bella would have thought there was nothing in that to disturb her. But she felt uneasy, and she wasn't sure why at first.

It wasn't until almost the very end, as she watched a haggard zombie shambling after the last shrieking survivor, that she realized what the problem was. The scene kept cutting between the horrified face of the heroine, and the dead, emotionless face of her pursuer, back and forth as it closed the distance.

And Bella realized which one resembled her the most.

She stood up.

"Where are you going? There's, like, two minutes left," Jess hissed.

"I need a drink," Bella muttered as she raced for the exit.

She sat down on the bench outside the theater door and tried very hard not to think of the irony. But it was ironic, all things considered, that, in the end, she would wind up as a _zombie_. She hadn't seen that one coming.

Not that she hadn't dreamed of becoming a mythical monster once—just never a grotesque, animated corpse. She shook her head to dislodge that train of thought, feeling panicky. She couldn't afford to think about what she'd once dreamed of.

It was depressing to realize that she wasn't the heroine anymore, that her story was over.

Jessica came out of the theater doors and hesitated, probably wondering where the best place was to search for Bella. When she saw her, she looked relieved, but only for a moment. Then she looked irritated.

"Was the movie too scary for you?" she wondered.

"Yeah," Bella agreed. "I guess I'm just a coward."

"That's funny." She frowned. "I didn't think you _were_ scared—I was screaming all the time, but I didn't hear you scream once. So I didn't know why you left."

Bella shrugged. "Just scared."

She relaxed a little. "That was the scariest movie I think I've ever seen. I'll bet we're going to have nightmares tonight."

"No doubt about that," Bella said, trying to keep her voice normal. It was inevitable that she would have nightmares, but they wouldn't be about zombies. Jessica's eyes flashed to her face and away. Maybe she hadn't succeeded with the normal voice.

"Where do you want to eat?" Jess asked.

"I don't care."

"Okay."

Jess started talking about the male lead in the movie as we walked. Bella nodded as she gushed over his hotness, unable to remember seeing a non-zombie man at all.

She didn't watch where Jessica was leading her. She was only vaguely aware that it was dark and quieter now. It took her longer than it should have to realize why it was quiet. Jessica had stopped babbling. Bella looked at her apologetically, hoping she hadn't hurt her feelings.

Jessica wasn't looking at her. Her face was tense; she stared straight ahead and walked fast. As Bella watched, her eyes darted quickly to the right, across the road, and back again.

Bella glanced around herself for the first time.

They were on a short stretch of unlit sidewalk. The little shops lining the street were all locked up for the night, windows black. Half a block ahead, the streetlights started up again, and Bella could see, farther down, the bright golden arches of the McDonald's she was heading for.

Across the street there was one open business. The windows were covered from inside and there were neon signs, advertisements for different brands of beer, glowing in front of them. The biggest sign, in brilliant green, was the name of the bar—One-Eyed Pete's. Bella wondered if there was some pirate theme not visible from outside. The metal door was propped open; it was dimly lit inside, and the low murmur of many voices and the sound of ice clinking in glasses floated across the street. Lounging against the wall beside the door were four men.

Bella glanced back at Jessica. Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead and she moved briskly. She didn't look frightened—just wary, trying to not attract attention to herself.

Bella paused without thinking, looking back at the four men with a strong sense of déjà vu. This was a different road, a different night, but the scene was so much the same. One of them was even short and dark. As she stopped and turned toward them, that one looked up in interest.

Bella stared back at him, frozen on the sidewalk.

"Bella?" Jess whispered. "What are you doing?"

She shook her head, not sure herself. "I think I know them..." she muttered.

What was she doing? She should be running from this memory as fast as she could, blocking the image of the four lounging men from her mind, protecting herself with the numbness she couldn't function without. Why was she stepping, dazed, into the street?

It seemed too coincidental that she should be in Port Angeles with Jessica, on a dark street even. Her eyes focused on the short one, trying to match the features to her memory of the man who had threatened her that night almost a year ago. She wondered if there was any way she would recognize the man, if it was really him. That particular part of that particular evening was just a blur. Her body remembered it better than her mind did; the tension in her legs as she tried to decide whether to run or to stand her ground, the dryness in her throat as she struggled to build a decent scream, the tight stretch of skin across her knuckles as she clenched her hands into fists, the chills on the back of her neck when the dark-haired man called her "sugar."...

There was an indefinite, implied kind of menace to these men that had nothing to do with that other night. It sprung from the fact that they were strangers, and it was dark here, and they outnumbered them—nothing more specific than that. But it was enough that Jessica's voice cracked in panic as she called after her.

"Bella, come on!"

Bella ignored her, walking slowly forward without ever making the conscious decision to move her feet. She didn't understand why, but the nebulous threat the men presented drew her toward them. It was a senseless impulse, but she hadn't felt any kind of impulse in so long….she followed it.

Something unfamiliar beat through her veins. Adrenaline, she realized, long absent from her system, drumming her pulse faster and fighting against the lack of sensation. It was strange—why the adrenaline when there was no fear? It was almost as if it were an echo of the last time she'd stood like this, on a dark street in Port Angeles with strangers.

She saw no reason for fear. She couldn't imagine anything in the world that there was left to be afraid of, not physically at least. One of the few advantages of losing everything.

She was halfway across the street when Jess caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

"Bella! You can't go in a bar!" she hissed.

"I'm not going in," She said absently, shaking her hand off. "I just want to see something..."

"Are you crazy?" she whispered. "Are you suicidal?"

That question caught her attention, and her eyes focused on Jessica.

"No, I'm not." Bella's voice sounded defensive, but it was true. She wasn't suicidal. Even in the beginning, when death unquestionably would have been a relief, she didn't consider it. She owed too much to Charlie. She felt too responsible for Renee. She had to think of them.

And she'd made a promise not to do anything stupid or reckless. For all those reasons, she was still breathing.

Remembering that promise. She felt a twinge of guilt.

But what she was doing to fight now didn't really count. It wasn't like she was taking a blade to her wrists.

Jess's eyes were round, her mouth hung open. Her question about suicide had been rhetorical, Bella realized too late.

"Go eat," Bella encouraged her, waving toward the fast food. She didn't like the way Jessica looked at her. "I'll catch up in a minute."

She turned away from her, back to the men who were watching us with amused, curious eyes.

"Bella, yer bein' foolish."

Her muscles locked into place, froze her where she stood. Because it wasn't Jessica's voice that rebuked her now. It was a whimsical voice, a feminine voice, a beautiful voice—soft like velvet even though it was amused.

It was _her_ voice—Bella was exceptionally careful not to think of the forest nymph since their last encounter—and even though she had never heard the nymph talk before, she knew that it was her voice. It had to be. Bella was surprised that the sound of it almost knocked her to her knees, that it replaced all her thoughts that made her want to curl onto the pavement in a torture of loss. There was no more pain, none at all.

In the instant that she heard the nymph's voice, everything was very clear. Like her head had suddenly surfaced out of some dark pool. She was more aware of everything—sight, sound, the feel of the cold air that she hadn't noticed was blowing sharply against her face, the smells coming from the open bar door.

Bella looked around herself in shock.

"Go back ter Jessie," the lovely voice ordered, still amused. "Even though I am curious about what ye plan to do, but remember what ye promised Sparkles—nothin' dense."

Bella was alone. Jessica stood a few feet from her, staring at her with frightened eyes. Against the wall, the strangers watched, confused, wondering what she was doing, standing there motionless in the middle of the street.

She shook her head, trying to understand. She knew the nymph wasn't there, and yet, she felt improbably close, close for the first time since... since the incident. The amused in her voice wasn't laced with concern, and it wasn't laced with anger either—something she hadn't known would be refreshing in her lifetime.

"Ye crossed yer 'eart an' hoped ter die. But did ye really steck a needle in yer eye?" The voice was slipping away, as if the volume was being turned down on a radio.

Bella began to suspect that she was having some kind of hallucination again. Triggered, no doubt, by the memory—the deja vu, the strange familiarity of the situation.

She ran through the possibilities quickly in her head.

Option one: She was crazy. That was the layman's term for people who saw things that weren't there and heard voices in their heads.

Possible.

Option two: Her subconscious mind was giving me what it thought I wanted. This was wish fulfillment—a momentary relief from pain by embracing the incorrect idea that there was some creature out there that cared whether she lived or died. Projecting what she thought the nymph would have said if A) she were there, and B) she wouldn't be in any way bothered by something bad happening to her.

Probable.

Bella could see no option three, so she hoped it was the second option and this was just her subconscious running amuck, rather than something she would need to be hospitalized for.

Her reaction was hardly sane, though—she was grateful. The sound of nymph's voice was something that she'd feared she was losing, and so, more than anything else, she felt overwhelming gratitude that her unconscious mind had conjured up that sound better than her conscious one would had.

She was not allowed to think of _him_ , though. That was something she tried to be very strict about. Of course she slipped; she was only human. But she was getting better, and so the pain was something she could avoid for days at a time now. The tradeoff was the never-ending numbness. Between pain and nothing, she'd chosen nothing.

She waited for the pain now. She was not numb—her senses felt unusually intense after so many months of the haze—but the normal pain held off. The only ache was the disappointment that the nymph's voice was fading.

There was a second of choice.

The wise thing would be to run away from this potentially destructive—and certainly mentally unstable—development. It would be stupid to encourage hallucinations.

But her voice was fading.

Bella took another step forward, testing.

"Yer better be sure about dis," she said with a giggle.

Bella sighed in relief. The amusement was what she wanted to hear—false, fabricated evidence that someone cared, a dubious gift from her subconscious.

Very few seconds had passed while Bella sorted it all out. Her little audience watched, curious. It probably looked like she was just dithering over whether or not she was going to approach them. How could they guess that she was standing there enjoying an unexpected moment of insanity?

"Hi," one of the men called, his tone both confident and a bit sarcastic. He was fair-skinned and fair-haired, and he stood with the assurance of someone who thought of himself as quite good-looking. She couldn't tell whether he was or not. She was prejudiced.

The voice in her head answered with an exquisite scoff. Bella smiled, and the confident man seemed to take that as encouragement.

"Can I help you with something? You look lost." He grinned and winked.

Bella stepped carefully over the gutter, running with water that was black in the darkness.

"No. I'm not lost."

Now that she was closer—and her eyes felt oddly in focus—she analyzed the short, dark man's face. It was not familiar in any way. She suffered a curious sensation of disappointment that this was not the terrible man who had tried to hurt her almost a year ago.

"Yer really off yer meds, aren'tcha?" The voice in her head asked sarcastically.

The short man noticed Bella's stare. "Can I buy you a drink?" he offered, nervous, seeming flattered that she had singled him out to stare at.

"Yer underage, love, but who am I to tell ye what to do? Gods know that me lads and I tried every trick in de book ter git drunk."

Bella felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her heart began to pound in her ears, and her body went ice cold. She dared to glance around because the sensation of someone watching her was all too familiar. And across the street, behind Jessica, Bella noticed that illuminating silver skin and clear blue eyes staring at her like they had months before.

"I'm too young," Bella answered automatically.

He was baffled—wondering why she had approached them. She felt compelled to explain.

"From across the street, you looked like someone I knew. Sorry, my mistake."

The threat that had pulled her across the street had evaporated. These were not the dangerous men she remembered. They were probably nice guys. Safe. She lost interest.

"That's okay," the confident blonde said. "Stay and hang out with us."

"Thanks, but I can't." Jessica was hesitating in the middle of the street, her eyes wide with outrage and betrayal.

"Oh, just a few minutes."

"Yer man wants ter git in yer pants." Bella's eyes met those blue ones again, and she noticed that the nymph was smiling. She had a beautiful smile. And just like before, the nymph had disappeared from thin air without a trace.

Bella shook her head, and turned to rejoin Jessica.

"Let's go eat," Bella suggested, barely glancing at her. Though she appeared to be, for the moment, freed of the zombie abstraction, she was just as distant. Her mind was preoccupied. The safe, numb deadness did not come back, and she got more anxious with every minute that passed without its return.

"What were you thinking?" Jessica snapped. "You don't know them—they could have been psychopaths!"

Bella shrugged, wishing she would let it go. "I just thought I knew the one guy."

"You are so odd, Bella Swan. I feel like I don't know who you are."

"Sorry." She didn't know what else to say to that.

They walked to McDonald's in silence. Bella bet that Jessica was wishing they'd taken her car instead of walking the short distance from the theater, so that she could use the drive-through. Bella was just as anxious now for the evening to be over as she had been from the beginning.

She tried to start a conversation a few times while we ate, but Jessica was not cooperative. She must have really offended her.

When they got back in the car, Jessica turned the stereo back to her favorite station and turned the volume too loud to allow easy conversation.

Bella didn't have to struggle as hard as usual to ignore the music. Even though her mind, for once, was not carefully numb and empty, she had too much to think about to hear the lyrics.

She waited for the numbness to return, or the pain. Because the pain must be coming. She broken her personal rules. Instead of shying away from the memories, she'd walked forward and greeted them. But it hadn't been his voice she heard so clearly in my head. That was going to cost her, Bella was sure of it. Especially if it belonged to a hallucination she had subconsciously created on her spare time. She felt too alert now, and that frightened her.

But relief was still the strongest emotion in her body—relief that came from the very core of her being.

As much as she struggled not to think of him, she did not struggle to forget. But this hallucination chased away the thoughts and memories of him easily. Bella worried—late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down her defenses—that it was all slipping away. That her mind was a sieve, and she would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture of his voice. She could not think of them, but she must remember them. And she couldn't allow something her mind conjured up make her completely forget, no matter how relieving it made her feel in the moment.

Because there was just one thing that she had to believe to be able to live—she had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else she could endure. So long as he existed.

That's why she was more trapped in Forks than she ever had been before, why she'd fought with Charlie when he suggested a change. Honestly, it shouldn't matter; no one was ever coming back here.

But if she were to go to Jacksonville, or anywhere else bright and unfamiliar, how could she be sure he was real? In a place where she could never imagine him, the conviction might fade….and that she could not live through.

Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.

Bella was surprised when Jessica stopped the car in front of her house. The ride had not taken long, but, short as it seemed, she wouldn't have thought that Jessica could go that long without speaking.

"Thanks for going out with me, Jess," she said as she opened the door. "That was...fun." She hoped that fun was the appropriate word.

"Sure," Jessica uttered.

"I'm sorry about….after the movie."

"Whatever, Bella." She glared out the windshield instead of looking at her. She seemed to be growing angrier rather than getting over it.

"See you Monday?"

"Yeah. Bye."

Bella gave up and shut the door. Jessica drove away, still without looking at her .

Bella had forgotten her by the time she was inside.

Charlie was waiting for her in the middle of the hall, his arms folded tight over his chest with his hands balled into fists.

"Hey, Dad," she said absentmindedly as she ducked around Charlie, heading for the stairs. She'd been thinking about him for too long, and she wanted to be upstairs before it caught up with her.

"Where have you been?" Charlie demanded.

She looked at her dad, surprised. "I went to a movie in Port Angeles with Jessica. Like I told you this morning."

"Humph," he grunted.

"Is that okay?"

He studied her face, his eyes widening as if he saw something unexpected. "Yeah, that's fine. Did you have fun?"

"Sure," Bella said. "We watched zombies eat people. It was great."

His eyes narrowed.

"'Night, Dad."

He let her pass. She hurried to my room.

Bella lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made its appearance.

It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through her chest, excising her most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally, she knew her lungs must still be intact, yet she gasped for air and her head spun like her efforts yielded her nothing. Her heart must have been beating, too, but she couldn't hear the sound of her pulse in her ears; her hands felt blue with cold. She curled inward, hugging her ribs to hold herself together. She scrambled for her numbness, her denial, but it evaded me.

And yet, she found she could survive. She was alert, she felt the pain—the aching loss that radiated out from her chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through her limbs and head—but it was manageable. She could live through it. It didn't feel like the pain had weakened over time, rather that she'd grown strong enough to bear it.

All because of a hallucination.

Whatever it was that had happened tonight—and whether it was the zombies, the adrenaline, or the hallucinations that were responsible—it had woken her up.

For the first time in a long time, Bella didn't know what to expect in the morning.

* * *

 **Information/Credits/Disclaimers:**

—All characters and events belong to Stephenie Meyer and to the publisher, Little, Brown and Company. Events from the movie(s) belong to the production and distribution companies.

—A nymph in Greek mythology and in Latin mythology is a minor female nature deity typically associated with a particular location or landform.

—A changeling is a creature found in Irish and Scottish folklore and folk religion. A changeling child was believed to be a fairy child that had been left in place of a human child stolen by the fairies. The theme of the swapped child is common in medieval literature and reflects concern over infants thought to be afflicted with unexplained diseases, disorders, or developmental disabilities.

—Bríd is based off of Bridget Cleary (Irish: Bríd Ní Chléirigh), who was an Irish woman killed by her husband in 1895. The motive for the crime was her husband's belief that she had been abducted by fairies with a changeling left in her place; he claimed to have slain only the changeling.

—Mackie Doyle is the main protagonist in Brenna Yovanoff's story _The Replacement_ that was originally published in 2010 by Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing.

—Mrs. Yovanoff never stated in _The Replacement_ that Mackie Doyle had to return to Mayhem, the underworld of the town he lives in. She only stresses that it would be wise for him to return to Mayhem because of fatal allergies to iron, blood, and consecrated ground that result with Mackie slowly dying in the human world.

—The idea that a changeling has to be returned to the Otherworld came from the Japanese belief that the human child must be returned before they ate fairy food, or else the exchange was irreversible. The Irish noted that the child may always long for fairyland.

—This chapter was not overlooked by a beta.

* * *

 **If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review. It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.**

 **Until next time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A big thank you to everyone who's favorited, followed and/or reviewed this story thus far. I sort of have it all planned out and I hope that you all enjoy what I have in store.**

 **Bella also takes a minor step in the direction of growing a backbone instead of being all whiney and depressed. Like I said, it's minor, like really, really, really minor, but for someone like Bella it's kinda a big step.**

 **For those who have reviewed, my responses will be at the end of this chapter.**

 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers, can be found below._

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Cheater & Someone's a Baby Stealer **

"Bella, why don't you take off," Mike suggested, his eyes focused off to the side, not really looking at her. She wondered how long that had been going on without her noticing.

It was a slow afternoon at Newton's. At the moment there were only two patrons in the store, dedicated backpackers from the sound of their conversation. Mike had spent the last hour going through the pros and cons of two brands of lightweight packs with them. But they'd taken a break from serious pricing to indulge in trying to one-up each other with their latest tales from the trail. Their distraction had given Mike a chance to escape.

"I don't mind staying," She said. She still hadn't been able to sink back into her protective shell of numbness, and everything seemed oddly close and loud today, like she'd taken cotton out of her ears. She tried to tune out the laughing hikers without success.

"I'm telling you," said the thickset man with the orange beard that didn't match his dark brown hair. "I've seen grizzlies pretty close up in Yellowstone, but they had nothing on this brute." His hair was matted, and his clothes looked like they'd been on his back for more than a few days. Fresh from the mountains.

"Not a chance. Black bears don't get that big. The grizzlies you saw were probably cubs." The second man was tall and lean, his face tanned and wind-whipped into an impressive leathery crust.

"Seriously, Bella, as soon as these two give up, I'm closing the place down," Mike murmured.

"If you want me to go..." She shrugged.

"On all fours it was taller than you," the bearded man insisted while I gathered my things together. "Big as a house and pitch-black. I'm going to report it to the ranger here. People ought to be warned—this wasn't up on the mountain, mind you—this was only a few miles from the trailhead."

Leather-face laughed and rolled his eyes. "Let me guess—you were on your way in? Hadn't eaten real food or slept off the ground in a week, right?"

"Hey, uh, Mike, right?" the bearded man called, looking toward them.

"See you Monday," Bella mumbled.

"Yes, sir," Mike replied, turning away.

"Say, have there been any warnings around here recently—about black bears?"

"No, sir. But it's always good to keep your distance and store your food correctly. Have you seen the new bear-safe canisters? They only weigh two pounds…."

The doors slid open to let her out into the rain. She hunched over inside her jacket as she dashed for her truck. The rain hammering against her hood sounded unusually loud, too, but soon the roar of the engine drowned out everything else.

Bella didn't want to go back to Charlie's empty house. Last night had been particularly brutal, and she had no desire to revisit the scene of the suffering. Even after the pain had subsided enough for her to sleep, it wasn't over. Like she'd told Jessica after the movie, there was never any doubt that she would have nightmares.

She always had nightmares now, every night. Not nightmares really, not in the plural, because it was always the same nightmare. You'd think she'd get bored after so many months, grow immune to it. But the dream never failed to horrify her, and only ended when she woke herself with screaming. Charlie didn't come in to see what was wrong anymore, to make sure there was no intruder strangling her or something like that—he was used to it now.

Bella's nightmare probably wouldn't even frighten someone else. Nothing jumped out and screamed, "Boo!" There were no zombies, no ghosts, no psychopaths. There was nothing, really. Only nothing. Just the endless maze of moss-covered trees, so quiet that the silence was an uncomfortable pressure against her eardrums. It was dark, like dusk on a cloudy day, with only enough light to see that there was nothing to see. She hurried through the gloom without a path, always searching, searching, searching, getting more frantic as the time stretched on, trying to move faster, though the speed made her clumsy….Then there would come the point in her dream—and she could feel it coming now, but could never seem to wake herself up before it hit—when she couldn't remember what it was that she was searching for. When she realized that there was nothing to search for, and nothing to find. That there never had been anything more than just this empty, dreary wood, and there never would be anything more for her….nothing but nothing….

That was usually about when the screaming started.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was driving—just wandering through empty, wet side roads as she avoided the ways that would take her home—because she didn't have anywhere to go.

She wished she could feel numb again, but she couldn't remember how she'd managed it before. The nightmare was nagging at her mind and making her think about things that would cause me pain. She didn't want to remember the forest. Even as she shuddered away from the images, she felt her eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in her chest. She took one hand from the steering wheel and wrapped it around her torso to hold it in one piece.

 _It will be as if I'd never existed._ The words ran through her head, lacking the perfect clarity of her other hallucination last night. They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open, and Bella stomped on the brake, knowing she should not drive while this incapacitated.

She curled over, pressing her face against the steering wheel and trying to breathe without lungs.

She wondered how long this could last. Maybe someday, years from now—if the pain would just decrease to the point where she could bear it—she would be able to look back on those few short months that would always be the best of her life. And, if it were possible that the pain would ever soften enough to allow her to do that, she was sure that she would feel grateful for as much time as he'd given her. More than she'd asked for, more than she'd deserved. Maybe someday she'd be able to see it that way.

But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw edges never healed? If the damage was permanent and irreversible?

Bella held herself tightly together. _As if he'd never existed,_ she thought in despair. What a stupid and impossible promise to make! He could steal her pictures and reclaim his gifts, but that didn't put things back the way they'd been before she'd met him. The physical evidence was the most insignificant part of the equation. She was changed, her insides altered almost past the point of recognition. Even her outsides looked different her face sallow, white except for the purple circles the nightmares had left under her eyes. Her eyes were dark enough against her pallid skin that—if she were beautiful, and seen from a distance—she might even pass for a vampire now. But she was not beautiful, and she probably looked closer to a zombie.

As if he'd never existed? That was insanity. It was a promise that he could never keep, a promise that was broken as soon as he'd made it.

She thumped her head against the steering wheel, trying to distract herself from the sharper pain.

It made her feel silly for ever worrying about keeping her promise. Where was the logic in sticking to an agreement that had already been violated by the other party? Who cared if she was reckless and stupid? There was no reason to avoid recklessness, no reason why she shouldn't get to be stupid.

Bella laughed humorlessly to herself, still gasping for air. Reckless in Forks—now there was a hopeless proposition.

The dark humor distracted her, and the distraction eased the pain. Her breath came easier, and she was able to lean back against the seat. Though it was cold today, her forehead was damp with sweat.

She concentrated on her hopeless proposition to keep from sliding back into the excruciating memories. To be reckless in Forks would take a lot of creativity—maybe more than she had. But she wished she could find some way….she might feel better if she weren't holding fast, all alone, to a broken pact. If she were an oath-breaker, too. But how could she cheat on her side of the deal, here in this harmless little town? Of course, Forks hadn't always been so harmless, but now it was exactly what it had always appeared to be. It was dull, it was safe.

She stared out the windshield for a long moment, her thoughts moving sluggishly—she couldn't seem to make those thoughts go anywhere. She cut the engine, which was groaning in a pitiful way after idling for so long, and stepped out into the drizzle.

The cold rain dripped through her hair and then trickled across her cheeks like freshwater tears. It helped to clear her head. She blinked the water from her eyes, staring blankly across the road.

After a minute of staring, she recognized where she was. She'd parked in the middle of the north lane of Russell Avenue. She was standing in front of the Cheneys' house—her truck was blocking their driveway—and across the road lived the Markses. She knew she needed to move her truck, and that she ought to go home. It was wrong to wander the way she had, distracted and impaired, a menace on the roads of Forks. Besides, someone would notice her soon enough, and report her to Charlie.

As she took a deep breath in preparation to move, a sign in the Markses' yard caught her eye—it was just a big piece of cardboard leaning against their mailbox post, with black letters scrawled in caps across it.

Sometimes, kismet happens.

Coincidence? Or was it meant to be? Bella didn't know, but it seemed kind of silly to think that it was somehow fated, that the dilapidated motorcycles rusting in the Markses' front yard beside the hand-printed FOR SALE, AS IS sign were serving some higher purpose by existing there, right where she needed them to be.

So maybe it wasn't kismet. Maybe there were just all kinds of ways to be reckless, and she only now had her eyes open to them.

Reckless and stupid. Those were Charlie's two very favorite words to apply to motorcycles.

Charlie's job didn't get a lot of action compared to cops in bigger towns, but he did get called in on traffic accidents. With the long, wet stretches of freeway twisting and turning through the forest, blind corner after blind corner, there was no shortage of that kind of action. But even with all the huge log-haulers barreling around the turns, mostly people walked away. The exceptions to that rule were often on motorcycles, and Charlie had seen one too many victims, almost always kids, smeared on the highway. He'd made Bella promise before she was ten that she would never accept a ride on a motorcycle. Even at that age, she didn't have to think twice before promising. Who would want to ride a motorcycle here? It would be like taking a sixty-mile-per-hour bath.

So many promises she kept….

It clicked together for her then. She wanted to be stupid and reckless, and she wanted to break promises. Why stop at one?

That's as far as she thought it through. She sloshed through the rain to the Markses' front door and rang the bell.

One of the Marks boys opened the door, the younger one, the freshman. She couldn't remember his name. His sandy hair only came up to her shoulder.

He had no trouble remembering her name. "Bella Swan?" he asked in surprise.

"How much do you want for the bike?" She panted, jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward the sales display.

"Are you serious?" he demanded.

"Of course I am."

"They don't work."

She sighed impatiently—this was something she'd already inferred from the sign. "How much?"

"If you really want one, just take it. My mom made my dad move them down to the road so they'd get picked up with the garbage."

Bella glanced at the bikes again and saw that they were resting on a pile of yard clippings and dead branches.

"Are you positive about that?"

"Sure, you want to ask her?"

It was probably better not to involve adults who might mention this _to_ Charlie.

"No, I believe you."

"You want me to help you?" he offered. "They're not light."

"Okay, thanks. I only need one, though."

"Might as well take both," the boy said. "Maybe you could scavenge some parts."

He followed her out into the downpour and helped her load both of the heavy bikes into the back of her truck. He seemed eager to be rid of them, so she didn't argue.

"What are you going to do with them, anyway?" he asked. "They haven't worked in years."

"I kind of guessed that," Bella said, shrugging. Her spur-of-the-moment whim hadn't come with a plan intact. "Maybe I'll take them to Dowling's."

He snorted. "Dowling would charge more to fix them than they'd be worth running."

She couldn't argue with that. John Dowling had earned a reputation for his pricing; no one went to him except in an emergency. Most people preferred to make the drive up to Port Angeles, if their car was able. She'd been very lucky on that front—she'd been worried, when Charlie first gifted her her ancient truck, that she wouldn't be able to afford to keep it running. But she'd never had a single problem with it, other than the screaming-loud engine and the fifty-five-mile-per-hour maximum speed limit. Jacob Black had kept it in great shape when it had belonged to his father, Billy...

Inspiration hit like a bolt of lightning—not unreasonable, considering the storm. "You know what? That's okay. I know someone who builds cars."

"Oh. That's good." He smiled in relief.

He waved as she pulled away, still smiling. Friendly kid.

Bella drove quickly and purposefully now, in a hurry to get home before there was the slightest chance of Charlie appearing, even in the highly unlikely event that he might knock off early. She dashed through the house to the phone, keys still in hand.

"Chief Swan, please," she said when the deputy answered. "It's Bella."

"Oh, hey, Bella," Deputy Steve said affably. "I'll go get him."

She waited.

"What's wrong, Bella?" Charlie demanded as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Can't I call you at work without there being an emergency?"

He was quiet for a minute. " _You_ never have before. _Is_ there an emergency?"

"No. I just wanted directions to the Blacks' place—I'm not sure I can remember the way. I want to visit Jacob. I haven't seen him in months."

When Charlie spoke again, his voice was much happier. "That's a great idea, Bells. Do you have a pen?"

 **.**

 _(The Great Hall at Union Station)_

By lunchtime, the nearly empty hall was so quiet that Lauren could hear all four hundred and sixty twinkling inset ceiling lights. Her weekend had been nothing but rubbing elbows with her parents colleagues. The Mallorys had thrown a dashing catering event, and going overboard was what the couple was known for. The Great Hall at Union Station was an iconic landmark in the heart of Seattle's Pioneer Square. The ethereal beauty of the 11,000 square-foot ballroom was built in 1910 and was complemented by the twinkling lights overhead its majestic barrel-vaulted ceiling. The black and white tiled floors and champagne, gold and emerald color scheme made the regal venue a timeless setting and the perfect location for a classic and elegant event.

One of the caters, a young Native American girl who everyone called Kim, came to refill the glasses. "I heard that you had some unwanted guests last night." Her hands shook as she spoke, spilling a few drops of water on the table.

Mrs. Mallory sneered as she watched Kim dab the spot with the corner of her apron. "Oh, just leave it," she said impatiently. "It'll dry without leaving a stain."

"Sorry." Kim blushed, her copper colored skin barely showed it. She took a step back from the table. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just so nervous. Everything is making me jump."

"We're all a little on edge," Mrs. Mallory said. Lauren rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was pissed more than anything. "The nerve of those people. Ruining a perfectly good event like that. But now those people are gone and I've booked for five more guests to join us tonight. I was relieved when they didn't mention ghosts. Oh, and don't forget to be on your A–game tonight. We'll be the busiest yet."

Last night had certainly been eventful. While the banquet had been in full swing, and all the snobs were hanging off of each other's words, two of the guests had ran out of the venue screaming about ghost being in the bathroom. And while everyone had laughed, Lauren's parents had been mortified that someone had tried to play a trick on them during an important event. It was safe to say that it had left her mother in a sour mood.

"I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eyes," Kim said lowly. "But when I look in their direction, they're gone."

"It's just your mind playing tricks on you," Mrs. Mallory said.

Kim twisted her apron. Her face was still flushed. "My mother called this morning when she heard what happened. She thinks I should quit."

Mrs. Mallory stared at her. "Kimberly, did not hear anything that I said? Five hundred people will be here in less than a couple hours. You can't quit. I need the staff to have every worker on hand."

"I didn't say I was quitting," Kim said. "I just said my mother thinks that I should."

"And what do _you_ think?" Mrs. Mallory demanded to know. "You're seventeen years old. You must have your own opinion."

"Of course I do, ma'am." Kim's eyes got wide and she bit her bottom lip. Lauren felt for the girl. She knew exactly how it felt to be on the end of her mother's terrible attitude. She also knew that Kim's mother was deeply involved with Council on the La Push reservation, and Lauren knew that the Elders had warned their children about spirits.

"Well?" Mrs. Mallory asked, she raised a finally waxed and drawn on eyebrow. "Will you stay and help me, or are you quitting?"

Kim looked down at the table. "I'll stay," she said. "...as long as the ghosts don't come back."

If Lauren hadn't felt so sorry for her, she would have laughed at what she had just said.

"I don't expect anymore manifestations," Mrs. Mallory said with a roll of her eyes. "Not with that pedophile and his child bride out of the picture."

"Do you really think they faked it?" Kim asked.

"Hahn was always one for the theatrics, and his wife was no better."

Lauren sat quietly, poking at her salad this way and that in an effort to make it look like she was eating some it. She didn't bother to say anything. She could've been quiet all day and her mother wouldn't have been concerned.

"I hope you're right, Mrs. Mallory." Kim's eyes darted to the corners of the room, as if she saw something moving in the shadows.

"Of course I am," Mrs. Mallory said as she took a long sip of her wine. "A man who where's his hair in a ponytail and drives around in a teenager's sportscar is not to be trusted. Neither is his nineteen year old wife who polishes her nails black, has her nose pierced and God only knows what else, and claims to be a cousin sometimes removed of the Queen of England." With that she left the hall, her stiletto heels clicking.

Kim sat down at the table. She looked tired. "If your mother didn't need me I would quit right now." She went to pour herself a glass of water, but it sloshed on the table.

"Clumsy," a high pitched voice whispered.

"What did you say?" Kim turned to Lauren.

"I didn't say anything."

"Clumsy, messy girl."

Kim jumped and whirled around to see who had spoken. Then her apron slid to the floor, the strings somehow were untied, and they could hear giggling throughout the room. Cloths began to slide off of the table, as did some of the forks, spoons and knives. The others rose into the air and napkins spun around like leaves on a windy day. The expensive China plates and decor were smashed into the walls. The condiments reputed, splattered and spilled over tables and the marbled floor.

Lauren and Kim crowded together, their flesh being pinched and their faces were being slapped. Something was even pulling their hair. They tried to see where the attacks were coming from, but that's when it dawned on them that invisible hands were assaulting them. That's when they screamed.

Things got even more strange when Mrs. Charlotte Hewes–Uley came barreling into the room while ringing a cat bell. "Leave, you devils, leave!" She screamed.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Lauren yelled. "Who are you talking to?!"

But Mrs. Charlotte just ignored her. Her eyes were focused on the swinging chandelier. "Leave us this minute in the name of God!"

Before the two girls could warn her, a pitcher of water rose behind the older woman's back and floated across at the room at warp speed and dumped itself on her head. The giggles changed into an uproar of laughter and spread quickly like a wildfire. With a few more pinches and slaps, something swept out of the room.

Kim ran to Mrs. Charlotte's side and started to dry her with the fallen tablecloths. "Are you alright?!"

Mrs. Charlotte didn't respond as she pushed Kim to the side. She looked around the room. She then turned to Lauren. "Good fetch Jonathan. Tell him that they've returned."

Lauren didn't even bother to ask what was going on. She did what she was told and ran out the room, only to bump into her mother who looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

"Oh, my, God," she cried. "What _in_ _the hell_ happened?"

"I want to go home," Kim wailed.

Not wanting to stick around for the scene that was about to unfold on her mother's behalf, Lauren dashed out of the room and began to search for Mr. Jonathan. She finally found him outside tending to the garden

"Mrs. Charlotte told me to come get you," Lauren shouted. "She said they've come back."

Needing no further explanation, Mr. Jonathan dropped the hoe and came running.

"They did all this," he mumbled to himself when he saw the disaster that was left behind. The chairs were overturned, linens on the floor, as were puddles of water and broken china; different colored condiments were everywhere and some of the curtains had been yanked off their hooks. Kim was sobbing quietly and Mrs. Charlotte was wringing water out of her hair. He turned to Lauren and added, "They're here because of you, you know. You've got something they want and this won't stop until you hand it over."

Lauren was too shocked to ask what he meant.

"You _must_ talk to the Council," he said. "Before they come back."

"Who's they?" Lauren's mouth was dry.

Mr. Jonathan leaned forward, catching her eyes. "It's not your fault," he said.

"What?"

His eyes were as dark as wet bark and Lauren understood what he was trying to convey through a simple look. _It's not your fault. That these things are flocking to you. You're just collateral damage to them._

She made a forlorn and helpless gesture. "But what do I do now? I can't change what I did…."

"No, but you can act now," Mr. Jonathan said seriously. "And soon. You have to act fast. Things will only get presumably worse."

"But why—"

"The answer is not simple. And it's not certain either. My people only know that whatever those things are, they were brought over by the white men….or something followed them. Either way, those creatures weren't always on this land."

Lauren's head was reeling. "What? I don't even understand what you're talking about."

"I can't really explain. Do you have time today to speak with the Council?"

Lauren shook her head. "I don't even know what you're saying! Something's after me, but you can't tell me? I'm not going anywhere without some answers."

"Don't you see?" Mr. Jonathan hissed. " _I_ don't have all the answers, but the Council will."

As Lauren opened her mouth to protest once more, Mrs. Charlotte walked swiftly towards them. Her hair and outfit were still wet. She looked tired. She vanished from their line of vision.

"Let's follow her," Mr. Jonathan said.

Lauren didn't protest to that. She was willing to do anything just as long as she didn't have to stick around to hear her mother's yelling and Kim's soft sniffles. She and Mr. Jonathan walked across the lawn and found Mrs. Charlotte staring down at the perfectly cut hedge bushes that were dotted with pretty flowers. "You don't belong here," she said softly. "You ought to be in your own world. All of you."

As she spoke, the bushes rustled and something whispered in the wind.

"That poor girl," she muttered. "Pretty little thing and don't have a clue about what's to happen." She cocked her head to the side, listening. "She ain't stupid, just naïve. She ain't like the white people that you're use to."

She moved her head to the side again. She then looked in their direction. "Jonathan? Why are you hiding?"

Mr. Jonathan stepped through the gap in the hedges with Lauren at his heels. Mrs. Charlotte didn't look surprised to see her.

"Who were you talking to?" Lauren whispered.

"No one," Mrs. Charlotte said with a frown.

"You were talking to….whatever the hell attacked me." Lauren's voice shook. "It's still here. Isn't it? It's watching us."

Mrs. Charlotte just stared at her with a grim face.

"Tell me who they are," Lauren cried. "Tell me what they want! Tell them that I don't know what the fuck is going on! Tell them—"

"Not knowing isn't going to change anything," Mrs. Charlotte said, interrupting her. "It has to run its course now."

"Can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"I can't," Mrs. Charlotte said. "But maybe _they_ will."

For a moment, Lauren was half tempted to grab the older woman by her shoulders and shake her, and beg for answers, but she stayed where she was. She bowed her head and stared at the stilled bushes.

"Come now." Mrs. Charlotte reached for her hand. "Let's get back inside."

Lauren watched as a butterfly landed on the bush. It disappeared in the greenness. "I've never believed in anything before," she said softly.

"Me either," Mrs. Charlotte said just as gently.

"Are you coming back inside?" Mr. Jonathan asked.

Lauren shook her head. She didn't want to see her mother in all of her bitchy gloriousness, and she didn't want Kim to be clinging to her. She also didn't have the energy to move at the moment. She was emotionally tired at that point.

Seeing that she wanted to be left alone, the couple walked passed Lauren and strolled off towards the hall again.

Once their shadows had disappeared, a pebble hit her cheek. And then another, and then another. The air was then full of pebbles, striking Lauren but too small to do anything but leave behind a sting. Then the damned giggling started. This time, whispers accompanied.

Lauren ran towards the hall, pebbles flying after her, but before she could reach the door, an invisible force pushed her backwards. Lauren whipped her head around to see how had put their hands on her, but she found not a single soul. That didn't change the fact that she knew someone, or better yet _something_ , was there.

"Who are you?" She whispered.

"Who are you?" It whispered back, sounding incrediblely childlike.

"What do you want?"

"What do you want?"

"Stop copying me!"

"Stop copying me!" It giggled as it mimicked Lauren's shaky voice. "Stop, stop, stop!"

Giggles erupted around her. An invisible hand pulled her hair so hard she felt some break off at the roots. She then cried out in pain and held her cheek. She could feel a red mark forming.

"You better be scared," someone whispered. "She's a bad one, a lovely bad one, a bad, bad, bad one."

Lauren made a run for it. She couldn't escape the giggling, or the pinches, slaps and yanks at her hair. It was like she was being chased by a swarm of bees that she couldn't see.

Somewhere between the lobby and the hall was when Lauren's attackers had given up. But she kept running until she reached the bathrooms. She stumbled through the doors and crashed into someone, hard. She stared to apologize, rambling something incoherent, when she finally looked up and saw the brightest blue eyes.

The angel flashed her a smile.

"Hi, Lauren," she said. She gave a her a wicked, laughing once over. "Remember our last chat? When I said that I would call upon you whenever it was fit? Well, guess what, pet—you're needed."

 **.**

 _(The Black's Residence)_

The directions Charlie gave Bella were very simple. She assured him that she would be back for dinner, though he tried to tell her not to hurry. He wanted to join her in La Push, and she wasn't having that.

So it was with a deadline that she drove too quickly through the storm-darkened streets out of town. She hoped she could get Jacob alone. Billy would probably tell on her if he knew what she was up to.

While she drove, she worried a little bit about Billy's reaction to seeing her. He would be too pleased. In Billy's mind, no doubt, this had all worked out better than he had dared to hope. His pleasure and relief would only remind her of the one she couldn't bear to be reminded of. _Not again today_ , she pleaded silently. She was spent.

The Blacks' house was vaguely familiar, a small wooden place with narrow windows, the dull red paint making it resemble a tiny barn. Jacob's head peered out of the window before she could even get out of the truck. No doubt the familiar roar of the engine had tipped him off to her approach. Jacob had been very grateful when Charlie bought Billy's truck for her, saving Jacob from having to drive it when he came of age. Bella liked her truck very much, but Jacob seemed to consider the speed restrictions a shortcoming.

He met her halfway to the house.

"Bella!" His excited grin stretched wide across his face, the bright teeth standing in vivid contrast to the deep russet color of his skin. She'd never seen his hair out of its usual ponytail before. It fell like black satin curtains on either side of his broad face.

Jacob had grown into some of his potential in the last eight months. He'd passed that point where the soft muscles of childhood hardened into the solid, lanky build of a teenager; the tendons and veins had become prominent under the red-brown skin of his arms, his hands. His face was still sweet like I remembered it, though it had hardened, too—the planes of his cheekbones sharper, his jaw squared off, all childish roundness gone.

"Hey, Jacob!" Bella felt an unfamiliar surge of enthusiasm at his smile. She realized that she was pleased to see him. This knowledge surprised her.

She smiled back, and something clicked silently into place, like two corresponding puzzle pieces. She'd forgotten how much she really liked Jacob Black.

He stopped a few feet away from her, and she stared up at him in surprise, leaning her head back though the rain pelted her face.

"You grew again!" Bella accused in amazement.

He laughed, his smile widening impossibly. "Six five," he announced with self-satisfaction. His voice was deeper, but it had the husky tone she remembered.

"Is it ever going to stop?" She shook her head in disbelief. "You're huge."

"Still a beanpole, though." He grimaced. "Come inside! You're getting all wet."

He led the way, twisting his hair in his big hands as he walked. He pulled a rubber band from his hip pocket and wound it around the bundle.

"Hey, Dad," he called as he ducked to get through the front door. "Look who stopped by."

Billy was in the tiny square living room, a book in his hands. He set the book in his lap and wheeled  
himself forward when he saw her.

"Well, what do you know! It's good to see you, Bella."

They shook hands. Hers was lost in his wide grasp.

"What brings you out here? Everything okay with Charlie?"

"Yes, absolutely. I just wanted to see Jacob—I haven't seen him in forever."

Jacob's eyes brightened at her words. He was smiling so big it looked like it would hurt his cheeks.

"Can you stay for dinner?" Billy was eager, too.

"No, I've got to feed Charlie, you know."

"I'll call him now," Billy suggested. "He's always invited."

Bella laughed to hide her discomfort. "It's not like you'll never see me again. I promise I'll be back again soon—so much you'll get sick of me." After all, if Jacob could fix the bike, someone had to teach her how to ride it.

Billy chuckled in response. "Okay, maybe next time."

"So, Bella, what do you want to do?" Jacob asked.

"Whatever. What were you doing before I interrupted?" She was strangely comfortable here. It was familiar, but only distantly. There were no painful reminders of the recent past.

Jacob hesitated. "I was just heading out to work on my car, but we can do something else…."

"No, that's perfect!" She interrupted. "I'd love to see your car."

"Okay," he said, not convinced. "It's out back, in the garage."

 _Even better_ , Bella thought to herself. She waved at Billy. "See you later."

A thick stand of trees and shrubbery concealed his garage from the house. The garage was no more than a couple of big preformed sheds that had been bolted together with their interior walls knocked out. Under this shelter, raised on cinder blocks, was what looked to me like a completed automobile. Bella recognized the symbol on the grille, at least.

"What kind of Volkswagen is that?" She asked.

"It's an old Rabbit—1986, a classic."

"How's it going?"

"Almost finished," he said cheerfully. And then his voice dropped into a lower key. "My dad made good on his promise last spring."

"Ah," she said.

He seemed to understand her reluctance to open the subject. She tried not to remember last May at the prom. Jacob had been bribed by his father with money and car parts to deliver a message there. Billy wanted her to stay a safe distance from the most important person in her life. It turned out that his concern was, in the end, unnecessary. She was all too safe now.

But she was going to see what she could do to change that.

"Jacob, what do you know about motorcycles?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Some. My friend Embry has a dirt bike. We work on it together sometimes. Why?"

"Well..." She pursed her lips as she considered. She wasn't sure if he could keep his mouth shut, but she didn't have many other options. "I recently acquired a couple of bikes, and they're not in the greatest condition. I wonder if you could get them running?"

"Cool." He seemed truly pleased by the challenge. His face glowed. "I'll give it a try."

Bella held up one finger in warning. "The thing is," she explained, "Charlie doesn't approve of motorcycles. Honestly, he'd probably bust a vein in his forehead if he knew about this. So you can't tell Billy."

"Sure, sure." Jacob smiled. "I understand."

"I'll pay you," she continued.

That offended him. "No. I want to help. You can't pay me."

"Well….how about a trade, then?" She was making this up as she went, but it seemed reasonable enough. "I only need one bike—and I'll need lessons, too. So how about this? I'll give you the other bike, and then you can teach me."

"Swee-eet." He made the word into two syllables.

"Wait a sec—are you legal yet? When's your birthday?"

"You missed it," he teased, narrowing his eyes in mock resentment. "I'm sixteen."

"Not that your age ever stopped you before," she muttered.

"Sorry about your birthday."

"Don't worry about it. I missed yours. What are you, forty?"

Bella sniffed. "Close."

"We'll have a joint party to make up for it."

"Sounds like a date."

His eyes sparkled at the word.

She needed to reign in the enthusiasm before she gave him the wrong idea—it was just that it had been a long time since she'd felt so light and buoyant. The rarity of the feeling made it more difficult to manage.

"Maybe when the bikes are finished—our present to ourselves," Bella added.

"Deal. When will you bring them down?"

She bit her lip, embarrassed. "They're in my truck now," She admitted.

"Great." He seemed to mean it.

"Will Billy see if we bring them around?"

He winked at her. "We'll be sneaky."

They eased around from the east, sticking to the trees when they were in view of the windows, affecting a casual-looking stroll, just in case. Jacob unloaded the bikes swiftly from the truck bed, wheeling them one by one into the shrubbery where Bella hid. It looked too easy for him—she'd remembered the bikes being much, much heavier than that.

"These aren't half bad," Jacob appraised as they pushed them through the cover of the trees. "This one here will actually be worth something when I'm done—it's an old Harley Sprint."

"That one's yours, then."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"These are going to take some cash, though," he said, frowning down at the blackened metal. "We'll have to save up for parts first."

"We nothing," Bella disagreed. "If you're doing this for free, I'll pay for the parts."

"I don't know…." he muttered.

"I've got some money saved. College fund, you know." _College, schmollege_ , Bella thought to herself. It wasn't like she'd saved up enough to go anywhere special—and besides, she had no desire to leave Forks anyway. What difference would it make if she skimmed a little bit off the top?

Jacob just nodded. This all made perfect sense to him.

As they skulked back to the makeshift garage, Bella contemplated her luck. Only a teenage boy would agree to this: deceiving both their parents while repairing dangerous vehicles using money meant for her college education. He didn't see anything wrong with that picture. Jacob was a gift from the gods.

 **.**

 _(Forks High School; A Few Weeks Later)_

They had ushered the senior class into the cafeteria after the vigil ceremony that had been held in the auditorium. Flyers were hung up on the walls for sports, clubs and other extracurricular activities, and a red banner hung above the entrance of the cafeteria where Magic Markers scribbled out the word Fall Festival in huge, bubbly letters.

Bella ignored a prep trying to hand her a piece of paper as she and her friends (who were more than surprised that she had decided to sit with them) walked into the busy room. Tyler was showing her the new trick his older brother had taught her while the Yorkie twins argued amongst themselves.

It was a simple trick to make a pencil look like it was made of rubber. Tyler held the pencil down by the eraser and shook it at just the right speed, and it appeared to become made of bendable rubber instead of wood. The tricks Tyler learned from his brother didn't take any special skill, just a lot of practice to get the speed and technique just right. Tyler smiled at Bella like they had just shared a inside joke as the twins continued to bicker. They were fraternal twins, but they looked so similar to one another. They had the same dark hair, slanted eyes and tawny complexion to them. They were good at many things, like drawing and fixing things with their hands, but Ben was more relaxed. He listened better and did things at his own pace. Eric was the one who talked a lot.

"Nuhuh, nope, you're crazy," Eric said as he flipped his hair out of his face. "There's no way those words came out of your mouth. Star Wars does not suck."

"It has crappy titles, even crappier characters like Jar Jar Binks—who, may I remind you, almost ruined everything and made the movie even more lame—and it just takes parts from history and throws them up in space."

Eric rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "And Star Trek is so much better? Who the hell would believe that an alien from outer space would actually quote Shakespeare like a human? Did the Klingon go to high school? Are there even schools in the 24th century?"

"Lightsabers, really?"

Eric grabbed Mike's arm. "Mike, would you please talk some sense into my brother? He's gone mental!"

Mike didn't answer, though. He was too busy looking at Jessica. It had become something of a habitual behavior ever since they had called it quits, or so Bella was told when she finally got back into joining the land of the living.

Eric yanked harder. "Mike, stop acting like a creeper and listen. Do you really think that Ben is making any sense?"

"People can have their own opinions," Mike said as he continued to look at Jessica.

She was wearing a pink, low cut shirt that showed the tops of her breasts. Her jeans were dark and blue, and her beat up converses adorned her feet. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears and Mike sighed longingly as if the act itself was sort of beautiful.

Bella hadn't talked to Jessica much since the stunt she had pulled when they had went out. Jessica didn't want to be alone with Bella, who she still thought was suicidal, and would only be caught hanging around her if others were around. But that didn't bother Bella, though. She knew what kind of person Jessica was and she had expected her to act like she had. Not that Bella could blame her. She didn't want to think about how crazy she had looked to Jessica.

So she wouldn't think about it. That Bella was dead and gone. As of a few weeks ago, she had decided to turn a new leaf in life to get back to associating with the living instead of just existing.

Tyler hit Mike's shoulder. "Your girlfriend is walking this way."

Jessica made way across the cafeteria with two junior-class girls following behind her like she was some sort of royalty. Their sneakers scuffed against the floor and Bella found that she didn't mind the sound. It reminded her of walking through dead leaves. Bella watched Mike's face as he stared at Jessica hopefully, and wondered how he had ever found her attractive when there was Jessica Stanley.

It made sense for boys to go for Jessica. She was tall and leggy, with a wide smile and plump lips. She was freckled in the summertime and she had that perfect tan all year round, and she was the typical high school gossip queen, but she was likable. Or maybe it was because she was naïve about what really lurked out in the real world.

Bella was the weird one—pale and awkward. Brown hair might have been a strong feature for some people, but not on her; it just made it easier for people to notice how deathly pale she was. She didn't start conversations or make jokes. Nowadays, people got uneasy just by looking at her. It was one of the reasons why she had chosen to stay in the background.

So it was quite ironic that Fork's most talkative and bubbly resident was suddenly right in front of her.

"Hey, guys!"

Bella smiled along with everyone else, but she was sure it looked more like a wince. She still had to work on few social cues.

"So, what did you guys do this weekend?" Jessica asked, pulling up a chair between Eric and Ben. "Guess what I did?" When she poked her tongue out to moisten her lips, Bella caught a flash of something silver in her mouth. She had gotten her tongue pierced.

Jenna Beckmann, Jessica's junior shadow, gasped dramatically and overdid it by cupping her hands over her mouth. " _Oh, my, God!_ You did not! I could _never_ do that."

That made her laugh. It was completely fake, but Bella doubted that Jenna knew. "Aw, that's _so_ cute! My parents did flip when they saw it, though. Speaking of my parents….so are yours completely freaked out by the latest drama? I mean, you've heard about Angela's little brother, right?"

Beside Bella, Lauren took in a sharp breath before letting it out. The twins had stopped smiling.

"Bella, has your dad, like, mentioned anything about it that wasn't on the news?"

Bella fumbled around to find a way to change the subject, but she couldn't think of anything on the spot.

She wasn't _that_ prepared to jump back into a normal, everyday life. She had clear her throat before she could answer. "No. My dad's been pretty cut up about it."

Jessica's eyes were wide. "God, it makes me so glad that I'm an only child."

"Wow, some friend you are, Jess," Lauren said with a sneer and a bite in her tone.

No one said anything at first. Everyone shot a side eyed glance in Lauren's direction, not knowing what to say. She had been withdrawn from the group lately, even Bella had noticed that, and she wasn't being herself. Tyler had assured everyone that she was just tired. It was senior year; they were all tired in some way, shape and form, but Lauren wasn't acting like the Queen of Forks High like everyone had thought. She was withdrawn and quiet. Her entire demeanor was just depressing. Bella couldn't help but wonder if people had subconsciously thought the same thing about her. So she looked away when she noticed the looks everyone else was giving Lauren. She had absolutely no room to judge her.

So she diverted her attention to Angela. Sweet, kind Angela who didn't deserve to be going through such a tragic event. Bella felt like a terrible friend for not being able to comfort the one person who had been genuinely good to her since her arrival in the small town. But she didn't see that much of Angela since they only had one class together this semester, but she did live a few blocks down. She didn't know Angela's twin brothers either, but she had seen the three of them together on Sundays when church was over with. They were chubby, smiling boys named Isaac and Joshua. Both healthy and completely happy.

And just like Lauren, Angela had become depressed, but she had also physical withdrawn herself from her group of friends. When she had glanced over and made eye contact with Bella, the tall girl didn't even offer a smile like she usually would've. Instead, she just pushed her chair back. Her dark brown hair was stringy and tied up to a ponytail, bearing her naked face to everyone. From far away she seemed small, but her stance was so ridged, like she was preparing herself to take a punch. Until two days ago, Angela had been amongst friends. And the whispering, giggling likes of Jessica had been almost inseparable at her side, and people had liked her.

Now, Bella saw a familiar empty space all around Angela. She knew it well, and it made her shiver at the realization that it didn't take much for people to become shells of who they once were, and that people would be quick to make you an outcast. All you needed was one bad thing to happen.

Jessica didn't waste anytime on Lauren. She just flipped her hair over her shoulder and suddenly, she was leaning more closer to Eric. "You just never think of a baby being kidnapped then murdered, ya know? My mom's been kinda crazy with her Rosaries and Hail Mary's since she heard even though she doesn't have a baby. Hey, are you guys doing anything Saturday? Conner's having a party."

For a second, Bella entertained the thought of sitting there and listening to Jessica ramble on. It's what she would've done a year ago. But if she was going to be breaking her promises, she figured it wouldn't hurt to break out some of her flaws, too. So while Jessica was in mid-sentence, talking about something for the Winter Ball, Bella pushed her chair back and told everyone that she would see them later. Jessica looked a little putout, not liking the fact that she had been interpreted. And when the old Bella wanted to apologize, the new one jerked her body in the direction of the hall. _Just go._

She made it through the maze of tables and out of the cafeteria without stumbling, and Bella could feel her heart beating in her chest as she smiled proudly to herself.

Maybe her idea wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

 **Responses:**

ValueMyHeart: Thank you for being my first reviewer. I hope that you like this chapter, too.

natcityjp: Thank you!

Code-Kya: I'm so glad that you like it! And there will be a lot more of historic folklore that will be introduced into the story, and not just those that come from the Mediterranean and Europe. I want to incorporate as many cultural beliefs as I can. I hope that you liked this cheaper as well!

* * *

 **Information/Credits/Disclaimers:  
**  
—All characters and events belong to Stephenie Meyer and to the publisher, Little, Brown and Company. Events from the movie(s) belong to the production and distribution companies.

—The Great Hall at Union Station is a historical landmark in Seattle, Washington. I was not sponsored to mention the venue.

—Charlotte Hewes is married to Jonathan Uley, and mothered Sue Clearwater and Lucas Uley. Her grandchildren are Leah Clearwater and Seth Clearwater. The website did not state whether or not she is deceased.

—Jonathan Uley is the son of Caleb Uley and Alice Huautah, the older brother of Mirabelle Uley, the grandson of Thomas Uley I, and Beatrice Door, the husband of Charlotte Hewes, the father of Sue Uley, and Lucas Uley, and the grandfather of Leah Clearwater, and Seth Clearwater. The website did not state whether or not he is deceased.

—"You better be scared," someone whispered. "[She's] a bad one, a lovely bad one, a bad, bad, bad one." Is a direct quote taken from Mary Downing Hahn's _All the Lovely Bad Ones_. The "ghost" scene was all inspired by the book, too.

—This chapter was not overlooked by a beta.

* * *

 **If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review. It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.**

 **Until next time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Who else is prepared for this long ass chapter? I've typed until my fingers were nothing but bone and my brain has been rattled.**

 **Enjoy, and please review.**

 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers, can be found below._

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Friends & Strangers**

"Have you heard anything more about Angela?" Bella asked suddenly one day as they entered the gym.

"Well," said Lauren after a moment, "I did hear that her parents were going to see a psychiatrist."

"A shrink? Why?"

"Well….apparently her father has been saying things that sound like hallucinations or something. And I heard her nightmares are pretty bad."

"Oh," Bella said. The sounds from the boys' locker room were fading, and they heard an outside door slam.

 _Hallucinations_ , she thought, _hallucinations and nightmares_. For some reason, she suddenly remembered that night in her backyard, when the forest nymph had left her in a state of shock before she had disappeared into thin air.

"We'd better get back to business," said Lauren.

Bella shook herself out of her thoughts and nodded. "We could have a graveyard," she said tentatively. "In the Haunted House, I mean."

"No," Lauren said with a sigh. "Jess wants us to stick with what we have."

While the whole new outlook on life had been nothing more than a good idea, there were some things that Bella wished she had thought out before agreeing to them. And helping set up for the Halloween party was one of them. She honestly didn't know what she was thinking. Jessica, who was in charge of it all, still wasn't talking to her, and Lauren either wanted to gossip about the Weber family, or just agreed with Jessica on everything. And, of course, Jessica's junior shadows were helping set up, too. Bella didn't know the others all that well so she was unfortunately stuck with trying to make conversation with Lauren for the time being.

It was after hours and they were holed up in the gym. Jessica was nowhere to be found, most likely making out with Eric in one of the dark closets. The school's janitor was in his office as the girls worked, and he had stressed the importance of locking the gym doors. He didn't want there to be any problems.

"OK then," Bella said at last. "We still have to measure the different partitions. Somebody's going to have to get in behind the bleachers…."

The lights in the gym had flickered and went down to half power.

"Oh, no," Lauren said, exasperated. The lights flickered again, went out, and returned dimly once more. "I can't see a thing." She stared at what now seemed to be a featureless piece of newspaper. She looked up at Bella and saw a white blob of a face.

"Something must be wrong with the emergency generator," Bella said.

"I'll go get the janitor."

"Can't we just finish tomorrow?" Bella said, almost hopefully.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Lauren said. "And Jess wanted this done last week. So I'll get the janitor. You stay here."

Bella began, "We could both go—"

But Lauren interrupted.

"If we both leave and we can't find him, then we can't get back in."

"But it's dark in here."

"It's dark everywhere; it's night time. I'll be right back." She was practically already out the door. "Bella, don't let anybody else in."

"As if you had to tell me," Bella mumbled, letting Lauren out and then watching her go a few paces down the hall. When she disappeared around the corner, Bella shut the door.

Bella made her way over to the cardboard box Jessica had brought and began stacking filing folders and notebooks back inside it. She could only see them as vague shapes as the lights continued to flicker on and off. There was no sound at all but her own breathing and the humming of the lights that were trying to come back on. She was alone in the huge, dim room...

And someone was watching her.

She didn't know how she knew, but she was sure. Someone was watching her in the dark gymnasium, waiting. Someone had their eyes on her in the dark.

Bella turned around quickly to face the room, straining her own eyes to see into the shadows, holding her breath. She was terrified that if she made a sound whoever was out there would get her. But she could see nothing, hear nothing.

The bleachers were dim, and the far end of the room was simply a black void. She could see absolutely nothing and the realization made her thoughts go into overdrive. Every muscle was agonizingly tense as she listened desperately. _Oh God, what was that soft whispering sound?_ It must be her imagination….please let it be her imagination.

Suddenly, she had made up her mind. She had to get out of there—now. Something dangerous was lingering, and it wasn't just her overactive imagination. Something was out there, something evil, something that wanted her. And she was all alone.

She hadn't felt so much fear since the incident she had stupidly ran blindly into. But not even James had made her feel so weak as he threw her around like a rag doll and broke her bones like he crushing bubble wrap. She had stood her ground against a vampire and barely made a sound as her body was being bent and broken. But whatever was lurking in the shadows invoked such a sense of fear that Bella felt almost sick to her stomach. She didn't want to think about it.

Then something moved in the shadows.

Her scream froze in her throat. Her muscles were frozen, too, held motionless by her terror—and by some nameless force. Helplessly, she watched as the shape in the darkness moved out of the shadows and toward her. It seemed almost as if the darkness itself had come to life and was rearranging itself she watched, taking on a form—a human form, the form of a young woman.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you."

The voice was pleasant, with a slight accent Bella couldn't place. It didn't sound sorry at all.

Relief was so sudden and complete that it was painful. Her shoulders slumped and she heard her own breath sigh out.

It was only a girl, some former student or maybe a teacher assistant. An ordinary girl, who was smiling faintly, as if it had amused her to see Bella almost pass out. That thought made the back of Bella's mind prickle.

Well….perhaps not quite ordinary. As she stared into those crystal clear blue eyes, Bella felt like she should've known who was in front of her.

She was remarkably good-looking. Her face was tawny in complexion and had a silver glow underneath the artificial twilight, but Bella could see that her features were cleanly defined and nearly perfect under a shock of cascading black hair. Those cheekbones were a sculptor's dream. And she'd been almost invisible because she was wearing black: soft black boots, black jeans, black sweater, and leather jacket.

She was still smiling faintly. Bella's relief turned to anger.

"How did you get in?" She demanded to know. "Nobody's supposed to be in the gym."

"I came in the back door," the girl said. Her voice was soft, cultured, but Bella could still hear the amusement and she found it condescending.

"All the doors are locked," Bella said flatly, accusingly.

The girl raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow and smirked. "Are they?"

Bella felt another quiver of fear. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. "They were supposed to be," she said in the coldest voice she could manage.

"You're upset," the girl said observantly. "I said I was sorry that I frighten you."

"I wasn't frightened!" Bella wrapped her arms around her waist. She felt foolish in front of the girl somehow, like a child being humored by someone much older and more knowledgeable. It made her even angrier. "I was just startled," she continued. "Which is hardly surprising, with you lurking in the dark like that."

"Interesting things can happen in the dark….sometimes." The girl was still laughing at her; Bella could tell by her eyes.

The girl had taken a step closer, and Bella gasped as she got lost in those eyes that were so unusual. They were almost pristine and perfectly transparent and colorless as a pure diamond, but there was a mixture of white and blue in them. As if she could look deeper and deeper until she fell into them, and went on drowning in them forever.

Bella realized she was staring, and tried to look away. Why didn't the lights come on? She wanted to get out of there. She moved away, putting a trash can and the end of a bleacher between them, and gathered the last folders into her arms. There was no way she would be finishing the rest of the work for tonight. All she wanted to do now was leave.

But the continuing silence made her uneasy. The girl was just standing there, unmoving, watching her. Why didn't she say something?

"Are you looking for somebody?" Bella was annoyed for being the first one to speak.

The girl was still gazing at her, those light eyes fixed on her in a way that made her more and more uncomfortable.

She swallowed.

With her eyes on Bella's lips, the girl murmured, "Well, yes."

"What?" Bella's cheeks and throat were flushing, burning with blood. She had forgotten what she had just asked. She felt so light-headed. If only she'd stop looking at her like that….

"Yes, I'm looking for someone," the girl repeated, no louder than before. Then, in one step she moved toward Bella, so that they were separated only by the corner of one bleacher seat.

Bella couldn't breathe. She was standing so close. Close enough to touch. Bella could smell a faint hint of something woody and the leather of her jacket. And her eyes still held Bella's—she couldn't look away from them. They were like no eyes she had ever seen, practically clear like a diamond, the dilating pupils were very easy to see. They filled Bella's vision as she leaned toward her, bending her head down to hers. Bella felt her own eyes half close, losing focus. She felt her head tilt back, her lips part.

 _No!_ Just in time she whipped her head to the side. She felt as if she'd just pulled herself back from the edge of a precipice. _What am I doing?_ she thought in shock. _I was about to let her kiss me. A total stranger, someone I met only a few minutes ago._

Bella didn't like the feeling she had just felt. It was like being dazzled with butterscotch eyes and a perfect face, but only more intense. It was like the girl had somehow been _controlling_ Bella's mind. There was no other way she could describe it.

But that wasn't the worst thing. For those few minutes, something unbelievable had happened. For those few minutes, she had forgotten about _him_.

But now his image filled her mind, and the longing for him was like a physical pain in her body. She wanted him, wanted his arms around her, wanted to be safe with him.

She swallowed. Her nostrils flared as she breathed hard. She wasn't supposed to think about him, she didn't want to. She tried to keep her voice steady and dignified. "I'm going to leave now," she said. "If you're looking for somebody, I think you'd better look somewhere else."

The girl was still looking at her oddly, with an expression she couldn't understand. It was a mixture of annoyance and grudging respect—and something else. Something hot and fierce that frightened her in a different way.

She waited until Bella's hand was on the doorknob to answer, and her voice was soft but serious, with no trace of amusement. "Perhaps I've already found her….Bella."

When Bella turned, she could see nothing in the darkness.

 **.**

 _(A Week Ago)_

The motorcycles didn't need to be hidden away further than simply placing them in Jacob's shed. Billy's wheelchair couldn't maneuver the uneven ground separating it from the house.

Jacob started pulling the first bike—the red one, which was destined for Bella—to pieces immediately. He opened up the passenger door of the Rabbit so she could sit on the seat instead of the ground. While he worked, Jacob chattered happily, needing only the lightest of nudges from her to keep the conversation rolling. He updated her on the progress of his sophomore year of school, running on about his classes and his two best friends.

"Quil and Embry?" She interrupted. "Those are unusual names."

Jacob chuckled. "Quil's is a hand-me-down, and I think Embry got named after a soap opera star. I can't say anything, though. They fight dirty if you start on their names—they'll tag team you."

"Good friends." She raised one eyebrow.

"No, they are. Just don't mess with their names."

Just then a call echoed in the distance. "Jacob?" someone shouted.

"Is that Billy?" She asked.

"No." Jacob ducked his head, and it looked like he was blushing under his brown skin. "Speak of the devil," he mumbled, "and the devil shall appear."

"Jake? Are you out here?" The shouting voice was closer now.

"Yeah!" Jacob shouted back, and sighed.

They waited through the short silence until two tall, dark-skinned boys strolled around the corner into the shed. One was slender, and almost as tall as Jacob. His black hair was chin-length and parted down the middle, one side tucked behind his left ear while the right side swung free. The shorter boy was more burly. His white T-shirt strained over his well-developed chest, and he seemed gleefully conscious of that fact. His hair was so short it was almost a buzz.

Both boys stopped short when they saw Bella. The thin boy glanced swiftly back and forth between Jacob and her, while the brawny boy kept his eyes on her, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, guys," Jacob greeted them halfheartedly.

"Hey, Jake," the short one said without looking away from Bella. She had to smile in response, his grin was so impish. When she did, he winked at her. "Hi, there."

"Quil, Embry—this is my friend, Bella."

Quil and Embry, she still didn't know which was which, exchanged a loaded look.

"Charlie's kid, right?" the brawny boy asked her, holding out his hand.

"That's right," Bella confirmed, shaking hands with him. His grasp was firm; it looked like he was flexing his bicep.

"I'm Quil Ateara," he announced grandly before releasing her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Quil."

"Hey, Bella. I'm Embry, Embry Call—you probably already figured that out, though." Embry smiled a shy smile and waved with one hand, which he then shoved in the pocket of his jeans.

She nodded. "Nice to meet you, too."

"So what are you guys doing?" Quil asked, still looking at her.

"Bella and I are going to fix up these bikes," Jacob explained inaccurately. But bikes seemed to be the magic word. Both boys went to examine Jacob's project, drilling him with educated questions. Many of the words they used were unfamiliar to her, and she figured she'd have to have a Y chromosome to really understand the excitement.

They were still immersed in talk of parts and pieces when she decided that she needed to head back home before Charlie showed up here. With a sigh, she slid out of the Rabbit.

Jacob looked up, apologetic. "We're boring you, aren't we?"

"Naw." And it wasn't a lie. She was _enjoying_ herself—how strange. "I just have to go cook dinner for Charlie."

"Oh….well, I'll finish taking these apart tonight and figure out what more we'll need to get started rebuilding them. When do you want to work on them again?"

"Could I come back tomorrow?" Sundays were the bane of her existence. There was never enough homework to keep her busy.

Quil nudged Embry's arm and they exchanged grins.

Jacob smiled in delight. "That would be great!"

"If you make a list, we can go shop for parts," Bella suggested.

Jacob's face fell a little. "I'm still not sure I should let you pay for everything."

She shook her head. "No way. I'm bankrolling this party. You just have to supply the labor and expertise."

Embry rolled his eyes at Quil.

"That doesn't seem right," Jacob shook his head.

"Jake, if I took these to a mechanic, how much would he charge me?" She pointed out.

He smiled. "Okay, you're getting a deal."

"Not to mention the riding lessons," Bella added.

Quil grinned widely at Embry and whispered something she didn't catch. Jacob's hand flashed out to smack the back of Quil's head. "That's it, get out," he muttered.

"No, really, I have to go," she protested, heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jacob."

As soon as she was out of sight, she heard Quil and Embry chorus, "Wooooo!"

The sound of a brief scuffle followed, interspersed with an "ouch" and a "hey!"

"If either of you set so much as one toe on my land tomorrow..." she heard Jacob threaten. His voice was lost as she walked through the trees.

She giggled quietly. The sound made her eyes widen in wonder. She was laughing, actually laughing, and there wasn't even anyone watching. She felt so weightless that she laughed again, just make the feeling last longer.

She beat Charlie home. When he walked in she was just taking the fried chicken out of the pan and laying it on a pile of paper towels.

"Hey, Dad." She flashed him a grin.

Shock flitted across his face before he pulled his expression together. "Hey, honey," he said, his voice uncertain. "Did you have fun with Jacob?"

Bella started moving the food to the table. "Yeah, I did."

"Well, that's good." He was still cautious. "What did you two do?"

Now it was her turn to be cautious. "I hung out in his garage and watched him work. Did you know he's rebuilding a Volkswagen?"

"Yeah, I think Billy mentioned that."

The interrogation had to stop when Charlie began chewing, but he continued to study her face as he ate.

After dinner, Bella dithered around, cleaning the kitchen twice, and then did her homework slowly in the front room while Charlie watched a hockey game. She waited as long as she could, but finally Charlie mentioned the late hour. When she didn't respond, he got up, stretched, and then left, turning out the light behind him. Reluctantly, she followed.

As she climbed the stairs, she felt the last of the afternoon's abnormal sense of well-being drain from her system, replaced by a dull fear at the thought of what she was going to have to live through now.

She wasn't numb anymore. Tonight would, no doubt, be as horrific as last night. She lay down on her bed and curled into a ball in preparation for the onslaught. She squeezed her eyes shut and….the next thing she knew, it was morning.

 **.**

 _(The Quileute Tribal Council)_

The five appointed council members met in the old boarding house, built over three centuries ago. It was a rugged structure that somehow stood against the test of time and proved a safe haven to conduct meetings. Rarely, if ever, did the council meet under dire circumstances. Especially due to the likings of a pale face.

The boarding house was dark. The five members waited silently. Thunder cracked in the distance. Lightning soon followed, illuminating the space that only had candlelight for them to see.

"T'ist'ilal is angry," the white-haired man muttered under his breath.

No one responded. They just listened to the storm rage on as no rain came from the sky.

Billy Black was there, his wheelchair stationed at what was the natural head of the circle. Beside him, looking quite brittle, was the white-haired Old Quil. Sue Clearwater sat stiff as a board with her father by her side. Jonathan Uley simply looked withered and tired. Then there was Nora Black, Billy's eldest sibling, who was as ancient looking as Old Quil, but managed to age gracefully.

They felt a rumbling vibration like an earthquake rocking the floor. Around them, some of the candles blew out mysteriously as no wind swept in the room. Ghostly flames began to to glow in pale blues and violets and rose to an alarming height.

Nora Black opened her hand to greet the magical flame. Just as she was about to run her fingers through it, there was a bang.

Sue Clearwater was obviously disturbed. "The whole place is shaking—what's going on?"

"Just relax, Sue," Jonathan said gingerly.

They all heard the crack of thunder that sounded too close for comfort.

For one second they were frozen, then the fire of the candles plunged forward. The vibrant colors merged together, robbing the five occupants of their eyesight as a flash of blue lightning exploded from the fire. It knocked the candles off of the shelves, flinging them into the walls.

The lightning formed a column and something shot out.

The Council members didn't so much see it as sense it. A wraith shape that tore around the room like a blast of cold air. It sent the books and other items flying. When it reached the window, it paused for an instant, as if it was gathering itself, and then a human-like form began to shift from the misty wind.

A man stood before them.

"Great Father Q'wati," Old Quil whispered from his position. He was staring at the man with luminous eyes, and he was fascinated.

Long black hair framed a mature face with dark eyes that possessed knowledge beyond any of their comprehension. While he wasn't as tall as the young men on the reservation, he was just as sturdy and muscular. His russet skin was smooth and unmarred which was gilded with what looked like the sun's rays. He was completely and comfortably naked. The set of eyes on his figure did not cause him any grievous; and why would it? He was a deity that they worshiped as having power over nature and human fortunes. He was their god, their creator, their father. Without him, they would be nothing.

"I am not pleased." Q'wati—the creator and protector of the Quileute people—stared out the window with eyes made of stone. They did not move or focus on one set thing, but they gave away that he was gazing out into the unknown world that mortals could not see with their own two eyes. His voice was unexpectedly soft with an undertone raspiness of an older man. But it was still strong, and his voice alone demanded attention and respect. "Only seventy years have past, and yet I am called upon once more. Tell me, my children, why am I here?"

Regal and poised, Nora Black spoke first. "It all started when a pale face's toddler had been kidnapped. They were twin boys and the oldest one had been taken."

"And what concern is that to us?" Q'wati would not stand by and listen to the misfortune of a pale face. He held no sympathy or good will towards them.

"None at all—or so we thought," Jonathan Uley said as Q'wati turned his dark eyes on the older man. "A few days ago two pale faces had been certain that they were attacked by ghost, but when my wife and I went to investigate we came to the conclusion that it hadn't been a spirit, but a creature."

"Describe this creature," Q'wati demanded.

"My wife believes that it more than one and that they may travel in packs. They are invisible to the human eye, but are very mischievous. They gather in bushes or mushrooms, and seem attracted to pretty, shiny things or humans. And they do not like the sound of bells."

Silence filled the room as a knowing look swept over Q'wati's face. His dark eyes narrowed and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "These creatures are what you know as pixies, and are very far from their home. They hail from England, mostly in Devon, Somerset and Cornwall, and it is truly rare that they would travel so far."

"They were interested in a girl," Jonathan added.

"A girl? What is so special about her?"

"From what we can tell, nothing. She's just a normal pale face."

"Obviously she isn't," Old Quil sneered under his breath. He certainly wasn't pleased to be discussing what had attacked the pale face. If he had it his way, they wouldn't have been talking about it at all. Why did they care what happened to the pale faces? They had taken their land, corrupted the wild life around them and pushed them to the brink of extinction. Old Quil thought that the pale faces were finally getting what they deserved.

Jonathan ignored Old Quil, though. "But then my wife told me that the creatures had spoken to her. The girl is apparently in danger."

"Are _we_ in any danger?"

Sue Clearwater twitched in her seat. She didn't like Q'wati, origins be damned. How could he stand there with no concern over a baby or teenager? Those children had nothing to do with their ancestors actions, and it wasn't right that they had to pay the price for them.

Toddlers were disappearing; grotesque monstrosities were being left in their place and families were killing whatever was found in the crib the next morning. How didn't that concern them? They could've been next. And what were they to do when the kidnappers grew tired of babies? Would elementary school children be next? Then the teenagers? Were any of the children—no matter how old they were—safe? Sue held no qualms towards the pale faces of Forks because not only had she herself faced plenty of racism, but she was also a mother. As mother she wanted her children to be safe and protected, and she would offer her help to any child no matter what they looked like. And she hoped that others would do the same for her children. That, and, she had taught her children that two wrongs do not make a right. Those who judged based off of the color of your skin were ignorant people who were stuck in a forgotten time, but it was up to those who faced the prejudice to rise above that ignorance and turn the other cheek.

There was always a time and a place to stand up for yourself and educate others, though, but Sue had learned that there were some people you just couldn't get through.

And Q'wati was like one of those people.

"Yes," Billy Black confirmed. "The Mannegishi said so."

Q'wati did not look convinced, and no one could blame him. The race of trickster people, whose one of biggest delights—a completely non-heroic form of trickster behavior—was to crawl out of the rocks and capsize the canoes of people canoeing through the rapids, spinning them to their death, certainly was not the most reliable source of information. They played devious tricks all the time, but they could be serious. Q'wati had witnessed that phenomenon only thrice in his entire existence, and each time had been related to the fear of the Quileute being obliterated from the face of the earth just like their only kindred, the Chimakum Tribe, had been when they were washed away by a flood.

"What else did they say?" Q'wati glanced out the window, almost like he had been expecting to see multiple humanoid heads poking from around the trees, with gigantic glowing orange eyes staring at the cabin.

"That it was….nice to have like minded beings around," Billy Black said.

Q'wati's broad shoulders tensed. "It is what I feared than." None of the humans spoke. They willingly held their breaths as they waited for Q'wati to continue. "Pixies are not known to travel far from their land. They followed something here."

"But does that have to do with the children?" Sue Clearwater asked, participating for the first time that night. "Are the pixies the one kidnapping them?"

"No. The creatures that are taking the pale faced children have done so for centuries, but never in such a strategic way before. And the pixies have never intervened; it is against their laws to do such a thing."

Q'wati didn't want to believe that this was happening again. History could not be repeating itself so soon. It had been roughly over two hundred years since the child snatching creatures—who he would later find out were called changelings—had made their presence known to their land. Those ugly creatures had followed the ho-kwats, stowing away on the ships and had enjoyed wrecking havoc all over their once flourished territory. Q'wati and the other great spirits had tried to form some type of allegiance with the foreign creatures that had looked like rotten corpses, but to no avail for the changelings didn't answer to Q'wati or to any of the gods and spirits of the New World. They took command from a much more powerful ruler.

"The pixies are here to save this place. There is only one creature and one creature alone that pixies would actively travel the world to defeat," Q'wati said. He still had a far away look in his eyes. "But I must know which one they're up against."

Q'wati pushed his shoulders back and strained his neck as lightning struck nearby again. The darkness in his eyes stretched until his entire pupil was dilated. He looked more like a soulless monster than a great protector.

He turned and walked towards the door.

"Wait!" Sue Clearwater called. "What are we supposed to do?"

"It'd be wise to put iron in the beds of the young, and do make sure that it is hundred percent iron; or make a wreath with blackberry stems, ivy, and boxwood," was all that Q'wati offered. "If I am correct, then the creature who is assisting the children snatchers is immensely powerful and devious. Not even I could rival their strength."

Streaks of pure white crackled against the calm blanket of grey, shrouding hot silver clouds with its blinding incandescence, emanating the might of an imminent tempest. Jagged bolts endlessly protrude, filling the sky with undying flashes of radiance. Another flash burned into their dilated pupils—followed hotly by a cracking boom.

When they unshielded their eyes, Q'wati was gone.

 **.**

 _(Present Day)_

Bella stared at the pale silver light coming through her window, stunned.

For the first time in more than four months, she'd slept without dreaming. Dreaming or screaming. She couldn't tell which emotion was stronger—the relief or the shock.

She lay still in her bed for a few minutes, waiting for it to come back. Because something must be coming. If not the pain, then the numbness. She waited, but nothing happened. She felt more rested than she had in a long time.

She didn't trust this to last. It was a slippery, precarious edge that she balanced on, and it wouldn't take much to knock her back down. Just glancing around her room with those suddenly clear eyes—noticing how strange it looked, too tidy, like she didn't live here at all—was dangerous.

She pushed that thought from her mind, and concentrated, as she got dressed, on the fact that she was going to see Jacob again today. The thought made her feel almost….hopeful. Maybe it would be the same as yesterday. Maybe she wouldn't have to remind herself to look interested and to nod or smile at appropriate intervals, the way she had to with everyone else. Maybe….but she wouldn't trust this to last, either. Wouldn't trust it to be the same—so easy—as yesterday. She wasn't going to set herself up for disappointment like that.

At breakfast, Charlie was being careful, too. He tried to hide his scrutiny, keeping his eyes on his eggs until he thought she wasn't looking.

"What are you up to today?" he asked, eyeing a loose thread on the edge of his cuff like he wasn't paying much attention to her answer.

"I'm going to hang out with Jacob again."

He nodded without looking up. "Oh," he said.

"Do you mind?" Bella pretended to worry. "I could stay..."

He glanced up quickly, a hint of panic in his eyes. "No, no! You go ahead. Harry was going to come up to watch the game with me anyway."

"Maybe Harry could give Billy a ride up," she suggested. The fewer witnesses the better.

"That's a great idea."

Bella wasn't sure if the game was just an excuse for kicking her out, but he looked excited enough now. He headed to the phone while she donned her rain jacket. She felt self-conscious with the checkbook shoved in her jacket pocket. It was something she never used.

Outside, the rain came down like water slopped from a bucket. She had to drive more slowly than she wanted to; she could hardly see a car length in front of the truck. But she finally made it through the muddy lanes to Jacob's house. Before she'd killed the engine, the front door opened and Jacob came running out with a huge black umbrella.

He held it over her door while she opened it.

"Charlie called—said you were on your way," Jacob explained with a grin.

Effortlessly, without a conscious command to the muscles around her lips, her answering smile spread across her face. A strange feeling of warmth bubbled up in her throat, despite the icy rain splattering on her cheeks.

"Hi, Jacob."

"Good call on inviting Billy up." He held up his hand for a high five.

Bella had to reach so high to slap his hand that he laughed.

Harry showed up to get Billy just a few minutes later. Jacob took her on a brief tour of his tiny room while they waited to be unsupervised.

"So where to, Mr. Goodwrench?" She asked as soon as the door closed behind Billy.

Jacob pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out. "We'll start at the dump first, see if we can get lucky. This could get a little expensive," he warned her. "Those bikes are going to need a lot of help before they'll run again." Her face didn't look worried enough, so he continued. "I'm talking about maybe more than a hundred dollars here."

She pulled her checkbook out, fanned herself with it, and rolled her eyes at his worries. "We're covered."

It was a very strange kind of day. She enjoyed herself. Even at the dump, in the slopping rain and ankle-deep mud. She wondered at first if it was just the aftershock of losing the numbness, but she didn't think that was enough of an explanation.

She was beginning to think it was mostly Jacob. It wasn't just that he was always so happy to see her, or that he didn't watch her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for her to do something that would mark her as crazy or depressed. It was nothing that related to her at all.

It was Jacob himself. Jacob was simply a perpetually happy person, and he carried that happiness with him like an aura, sharing it with whoever was near him. Like an earthbound sun, whenever someone was within his gravitational pull, Jacob warmed them. It was natural, a part of who he was. No wonder she was so eager to see him.

Even when he commented on the gaping hole in her dashboard, it didn't send her into a panic like it should have.

"Did the stereo break?" he wondered.

"Yeah," she lied.

He poked around in the cavity. "Who took it out? There's a lot of damage..."

"I did," she admitted.

He laughed. "Maybe you shouldn't touch the motorcycles too much."

"No problem."

According to Jacob, they did get lucky at the dump. He was very excited about several grease-blackened pieces of twisted metal that he found; she was just impressed that he could tell what they were supposed to be.

From there we went to the Checker Auto Parts down in Hoquiam. In her truck, it was more than a two hour drive south on the winding freeway, but the time passed easily with Jacob. He chattered about his friends and his school, and Bella found herself asking questions, not even pretending, truly curious to hear what he had to say.

"I'm doing all the talking," he complained after a long story about Quil and the trouble he'd stirred up by asking out a senior's steady girlfriend. "Why don't you take a turn? What's going on in Forks? It has to be more exciting than La Push."

"Wrong," she sighed. "There's really nothing. Your friends are a lot more interesting than mine. I like your friends. Quil's funny."

He frowned. "I think Quil likes you, too."

She laughed. "He's a little young for me."

Jacob's frown deepened. "He's not that much younger than you. It's just a year and a few months."

Bella had a feeling they weren't talking about Quil anymore. She kept her voice light, teasing. "Sure, but, considering the difference in maturity between guys and girls, don't you have to count that in dog years? What does that make me, about twelve years older?"

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Okay, but if you're going to get picky like that, you have to average in size, too. You're so small, I'll have to knock ten years off your total."

"Five foot four is perfectly average." She sniffed. "It's not my fault you're a freak."

They bantered like that till Hoquiam, still arguing over the correct formula to determine age—she lost two more years because she didn't know how to change a tire, but gained one back for being in charge of the bookkeeping at her house—until they were in Checker, and Jacob had to concentrate again. They found everything left on his list, and Jacob felt confident that he could make a lot of progress with their haul.

By the time they got back to La Push, she was twenty-three and he was thirty—he was definitely weighting skills in his favor.

Bella hadn't forgotten the reason for what she was doing. And, even though she was enjoying herself more than she'd thought possible, there was no lessening of her original desire. She still wanted to cheat. It was senseless, and she really didn't care. She was going to be as reckless as she could possibly manage in Forks. She would not be the only keeper of an empty contract. Getting to spend time with Jacob was just a much bigger perk than she'd. expected.

Billy wasn't back yet, so they didn't have to be sneaky about unloading their day's spoils. As soon as they had everything laid out on the plastic floor next to Jacob's toolbox, he went right to work, still talking and laughing while his fingers combed expertly through the metal pieces in front of him.

Jacob's skill with his hands was fascinating. They looked too big for the delicate tasks they performed with ease and precision. While he worked, he seemed almost graceful. Unlike when he was on his feet; there, his height and big feet made him nearly as dangerous as she was.

Quil and Embry did not show up, so maybe his threat yesterday had been taken seriously.

The day passed too quickly. It got dark outside the mouth of the garage before Bella was expecting it, and then they heard Billy calling for them.

Bella jumped up to help Jacob put things away, hesitating because she wasn't sure what she should touch.

"Just leave it," he said. "I'll work on it later tonight."

"Don't forget your schoolwork or anything," she said, feeling a little guilty. She didn't want him to get in trouble. That plan was just for her.

"Bella?"

Both their heads snapped up as Charlie's familiar voice wafted through the trees, sounding closer than the house.

"Shoot," she muttered. "Coming!" She yelled toward the house.

"Let's go." Jacob smiled, enjoying the cloak-and-dagger. He snapped the light off, and for a moment she was blind. Jacob grabbed her hand and towed her out of the garage and through the trees, his feet finding the familiar path easily. His hand was rough, and very warm.

Despite the path, they were both tripping over their feet in the darkness. So they were also both laughing when the house came into view. The laughter did not go deep; it was light and superficial, but still nice. She was sure he wouldn't notice the faint hint of hysteria. She wasn't used to laughing, and it felt right and also very wrong at the same time.

Charlie was standing under the little back porch, and Billy was sitting in the doorway behind them.

"Hey, Dad," they both said at the same time, and that started them laughing again.

Charlie stared at Bella with wide eyes that flashed down to note Jacob's hand around hers.

"Billy invited us for dinner," Charlie said to them in an absentminded tone.

"My super secret recipe for spaghetti. Handed down for generations," Billy said gravely.

Jacob snorted. "I don't think Ragu's actually been around that long."

The house was crowded. Harry Clearwater was there, too, with his family—his wife, Sue, whom she knew vaguely from her childhood summers in Forks, and his two children. Leah was a senior like Bella, but a year older. She was beautiful in an exotic way—perfect copper skin, glistening black hair, eyelashes like feather dusters—and preoccupied. She was on Billy's phone when we got in, and she never let it go. Seth was fourteen; he hung on Jacob's every word with idolizing eyes.

There were too many of them for the kitchen table, so Charlie and Harry brought chairs out to the yard, and they ate spaghetti off plates on their laps in the dim light from Billy's open door. The men talked about the game, and Harry and Charlie made fishing plans. Sue teased her husband about his cholesterol and tried, unsuccessfully, to shame him into eating something green and leafy. Jacob talked mostly to Bella and Seth, who interrupted eagerly whenever Jacob seemed in danger of forgetting him. Charlie watched Bella, trying to be inconspicuous about it, with pleased but cautious eyes.

It was loud and sometimes confusing as everyone talked over everyone else, and the laughter from one joke interrupted the telling of another. Bella didn't have to speak often, but she smiled a lot, and only because she felt like it.

She didn't want to leave.

This was Washington, though, and the inevitable rain eventually broke up the party; Billy's living room was much too small to provide an option for continuing the get-together. Harry had driven Charlie down, so they rode together in Bella's truck on the way back home. He asked about her day, and she told mostly the truth—that she'd gone with Jacob to look at parts and then watched him work in his garage.

"You think you'll visit again anytime soon?" he wondered, trying to be casual about it.

"Tomorrow after school," she admitted. "I'll take homework, don't worry."

"You be sure to do that," he ordered, trying to disguise his satisfaction.

Bella was nervous when they got to the house. She didn't want to go upstairs. The warmth of Jacob's presence was fading and, in its absence, the anxiety grew stronger. She was sure she wouldn't get away with two peaceful nights of sleep in a row.

To put bedtime off, she checked my e-mail; there was a new message from Renee.

She wrote about her day, a new book club that filled the time slot of the meditation classes she'd just quit, her week subbing in the second grade, missing her kindergarteners. She wrote that Phil was enjoying his new coaching job, and that they were planning a second honeymoon trip to Disney World.

And Bella noticed that the whole thing read like a journal entry, rather than a letter to someone else. Remorse flooded through her, leaving an uncomfortable sting behind. Some daughter she was.

She wrote back to her quickly, commenting on each part of her letter, volunteering information of her own—describing the spaghetti party at Billy's and how she felt watching Jacob build useful things out of small pieces of metal—awed and slightly envious. She made no reference to the change this letter would be from the ones she'd received in the last several months. Bella could barely remember what she'd written to her even as recently as last week, but she was sure it wasn't very responsive. The more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt; she really must have worried her.

She stayed up extra late after that, finishing more homework than strictly necessary. But neither sleep deprivation nor the time spent with Jacob—being almost happy in a shallow kind of way—could keep the dream away for two nights in a row.

Bella woke shuddering, her scream muffled by the pillow.

 **.**

 _(Later That Night; Tulsa, Oklahoma)_

Aphrodite LaFont stood in the lower level of the rescue charity of Street Cats with her back against the wall, facing several of the stray cats that were allowed to roam around freely. It was almost dark, and the sun was setting quickly. Some Christian folk band was playing, talking about how Jesus loved them and how they knew since he had died for them. None of the cats seemed to mind her presence as they brushed up against her and meows softly. Her heart melted and she fought the urge to adopt another. Maleficent was a handful all by herself, and Aphrodite doubted that the purebred Persian would be willing to share her attention.

She strutted across the room, holding her head high with her shoulders pushed back, making sure to mind the scurrying cats at her feet. "Why did you call me?" She asked Sister Mary Angela, the nun in charge of most things there. She had been surprised to see a message left by the nun nonetheless. The two of them certainly butted heads more than once when she had allowed Aphrodite and the Nerd Herd to hide out in the underground sanctuary.

"Hello to you, too, Aphrodite." Sister Mary Angela just smiled.

The blonde gave a pitiful smile back. "Yeah, hi. So, like, can you tell me why you called me today? It sounded urgent, but you kinda interrupted my sexy time with Darius."

Sister Mary Angela ignored the last part of the blonde's sentence. She had grown accustomed to Aphrodite's lack of a filter. "Someone underground wants a word with."

Aphrodite raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow, posing a silent question.

"She didn't give her name," Sister Mary Angela said. "I asked a couple of times, but she wouldn't tell me. I told her that you were probably busy today. I can tell her that you weren't available."

"No. I'll go see her."

There was only one person who wouldn't give their name out so freely.

Aphrodite walked down the corridor towards the secret passage to the underground. She made her way through the tunnels to area that the red fledglings had once called home; it had also been the same place that Aphrodite and her friends had hid deep in underneath Tulsa when their world had gone to hell.

She heard light footsteps echoing in the tunnels, growing closer, and when the winged girl stepped out from the darkened underground, Aphrodite knew that nothing good would come from this talk. The girl's black hair was down to her waist, and covered her bare chest and was curling at the ends. She was wearing dark painted on jeans, and her silver glowing skin shinned dimly in the darkness, making the abnormal words written on her skin stand out even more.

Aphrodite's face was always a mask, and no one knew what she was thinking at any given moment unless the person was Darius. He had been the only one who had taken the time to get to know her. But as soon as she locked eyes on the winged girl, she knew that her surprised had showed. She recovered quickly, all emotions gone and her eyes returned to being guarded and wary. "Aspen?"

"How have you been, Aphrodite?" The forest nymph, the fallen angel, and Princess—better known to friends and family as Aspen—asked with a coy smile.

"What are you doing here?" Aphrodite's eyes turned even more watchful, knowing full well that Aspen wasn't there for a drop in social call.

"I took a break." Aspen's smile twisted up on one side. "Princess duties can be such a bore. I tried getting away sooner, but protocol—which is a pain in the arse. It's not exactly the most fun thing to do."

"So….you decided to drop in and what? Say hi or something?"

"I know it's been a while, but I was hoping for a more friendly reaction." Aspen pushed her lips out in a pout.

Aphrodite didn't respond.

"I've been thinking about you lately." Aspen's voice dimmed to a low, sexy pitch and took a step closer to Aphrodite. "No other human quiet has your spirit. And it's been a long time since one of your kind has caught my eye. Besides, we use to have so much fun together—well, while it lasted. But aren't you a wee bit curious to what I have to say?"

"I'm listening." Aphrodite cleared her throat and shifted her stance. She didn't like the uncertainty bubbling up in her chest.

"What have you seen?"

"I haven't seen anything."

Aspen tipped her head back and laughed.

"What?" Aphrodite demanded.

"Your visions are more powerful than they ever have been, and that's all in thanks to me. Did you honestly think there wouldn't be a catch?"

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes. "What catch?" Her voice choked with irritation.

Without warning, Aspen reached out and curled her fist into Aphrodite's shirt, pulling the blonde closer as their mouths fused together with a kiss. Aphrodite tensed, taken by surprise at the sudden action, but slowly she turned towards Aspen, her body relaxing. The blonde's arms came up and skimmed the through the soft, pitch black waves of hair.

Aphrodite pulled back for air and swallowed hard, trying to chase the stab of guilt away that swarmed around in her heart. Part of her wanted to push her conscience aside and continue on with the kiss, reverting back to her old ways. Until she'd met Darius, she hadn't let anyone get close enough to her for it to matter whether they lied to her or not. She'd been sure she'd lied to them first. Cheated on them first. Broken up with them first.

"When a fairy grants a wish with their own free will, there's always a favor to return," Aspen explained as she stayed rooted in her spot. She didn't untangle herself from Aphrodite. "And the human doesn't always to have agree to the terms and conditions." She brushed her pouty lips against the smooth, pale column of the blonde's neck. "You're special," she whispered. "Many centuries have passed since the last true human oracle has walked this realm. I knew that I couldn't just let you go."

As Aspen stepped back, anxiety washed over Aphrodite. Without warning, Aspen grasped the side of her head, forcing topaz blue eyes to stare at otherworldly ones.

"You're my personal Pythia," she purred.

Aphrodite shivered at the darkness seeping in Aspen's tone. She didn't like the look of madness that made the fairy's eyes sparkle. Aspen steered the blonde towards the wall. She planted her there, using her wings to encase her like some trophy.

"I haven't seen anything," Aphrodite swore. She was trapped, both physically and mentally. She was almost scared to breathe. "Nothing pertaining to you, at least."

"You're lying."

Aphrodite's mouth dropped. She shook her head. "No, I'm not. Why would I lie?"

"You've been having odd dreams, haven't you?"

With a slight hesitation, Aphrodite eyed the fairy with precaution. "How did you know that?"

Aspen laughed again. "I gave you some of _my magic_ , Aphrodite. Don't be so dense. I'm connected to you."

Aspen noticed the tightness around Aphrodite's eyes as she shook her head. "Hell no, I refuse to be connected to someone again. I didn't like it the first time, and I willingly agreed to that bullshit. So I sure as hell don't want it since I didn't even get a fucking say."

The left side of Aspen's lips tugged upwards, creating a sinister smirk on her god like face; casting a spell of pure amusement to the eyes that dared to look her way. "You better watch that tongue of yours, love. Just because your something valuable and we've fucked around a few times doesn't mean I won't bruise your pretty little face. You don't need a tongue to tell me your visions when I can so easily read your mind."

Aphrodite could feel the thumping of her heart against her chest. Her fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into her palm. She couldn't hear her rapid breathing, but she could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of her lungs.

"They're just dreams."

Aspen rolled her eyes with a light sigh. "Are you sure about that?"

" _Yes_ ," Aphrodite spat out through clenched teeth.

"Aphrodite." Aspen spoke her name as a soft threat. She wanted to reach out with her magic and twist the blonde's mind until she was screaming bloody murder about her dreams—her visions.

"I can't tell you," the blonde finally said with quiet conviction even though her voice wavered. "Please don't make me tell you. They're fucking horrible."

Aspen leaned forward until their noses brushed against each other's. She flicked her tongue out and teased the seams of Aphrodite's lips, biting back a smirk when the blonde gasped in shock. "Then tell me just one little thing, and I'll go away."

"Wha–what?"

"Just one thing," the fairy repeated. "That's all I want, and then I'll leave you alone." She swallowed the _for now_ that was on the tip of her tongue.

"It doesn't work like that," Aphrodite said with a bit of incredulous. "Some of the visions I have are sacred and private, and only Nyx has the privilege to know since she is my Goddess. She could punish me—"

"One name, Aphrodite."

"Promise me then that's all you want from me. I'll give you the name and tell you whatever it is that you want to know, and then you'll leave me alone. Give me your word."

"You'd trust my word?"

"No," Aphrodite said. "I wouldn't."

Aspen laughed coolly and, while staring down Aphrodite until she squirmed in place, touched her pointer finger in the center of the blonde's forehead. "Then I'll just to get the answers myself. Oh, and while I'm digging around in your brain, I might as well look at your dreams. I'll be killing two birds with one stone." The silver glow that came from within her body began to pulse around her fingertip until it shined like a diamond. "By the way, this is going to be fucking painful for you."

"Aspen, wait—" Aphrodite began to panic as the center of her forehead began to burn in the most unpleasant of ways. "Aspen, please stop!"

The burning sensation ceased. The fairy stared into Aphrodite's tear glassed eyes with childlike amusement.

"I'll tell you the name," Aphrodite mumbled. Her voice sounded so feeble. "I'll tell you the fucking name. Just….please—stop."

"Bella Swan," Aspen said. "Have you had any dreams about her?"

Aphrodite nodded her head. The beads of sweat rolled down her face at the movement. "A lot."

"Is she going to die?"

Aphrodite nodded her head again.

"How is she going to die?"

"Someone's going to kill her," Aphrodite whimpered.

"Who?"

"I don't know." Aphrodite pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw stars. She shook her head and swallowed hard. Whoever Bella Swan was, she was going to suffer. Someone wanted her to only remember excruciating pain until they took her life in the most horrid way imaginable. "There's too much commotion. I can't focus on somethings because they aren't apart of the natural order. Something's blocking me. It's all blurring together, they come too fast in flashes. I can't see them clearly. I don't want to see them."

Aspen tucked a loose strand of Aphrodite's hair behind her ears. Aphrodite shuddered away from the fairy's touch. "I can't see anything right."

"Who's going to kill Bella Swan?" Aspen urged. She was thankful that Aphrodite refused to look her in the eyes. She had felt the faint crack in her expression—the frown of disbelief mixed with annoyance.

"It's a female," Aphrodite crocked out. "She's been watching her, and she doesn't even know it. She doesn't feel the eyes on her. How can she not feel it? No, wait—now it's a male. He's….he's ripping her abdomen apart _with his teeth_. He's pulling something out of….no, no….it's a female again, but different from the last one. She's handing her a cup to drink. It's poison. It's a trap. She's falling right into the trap. She drinks it. I can't see the woman's face, it's a blur…." Aphrodite's eye shot open like she had been electrocuted. She inhaled sharply and practically scrambled up the wall to get away from the fairy in front of her.

"Who?" Aspen asked with the little patience she had left.

Aphrodite curled her fist against her mouth, suppressing the vomit that threatened to come up. Her stomach churned so violently that she felt the foul, disgusting, repulsive stomach acid touching the back of her throat. The feeling made her gag. She retched, but nothing came up. Tears began to stream down her face as she trembled to make eye contact with Aspen.

"You," Aphrodite whispered.

 **.**

 _(The Next Morning)_

As the dim morning light filtered through the fog outside her window, Bella lay still in bed and tried to shake off the dream. There had been a small difference last night, and she concentrated on that.

Last night she had not been alone in the woods. Sam Uley—the man who had pulled her from the forest floor that night she couldn't bear to think of consciously—was there. It was an odd, unexpected alteration. The man's dark eyes had been surprisingly unfriendly, filled with some secret he didn't seem inclined to share. She'd stared at him as often as her frantic searching had allowed; it made her uncomfortable, under all the usual panic, to have him there. Maybe that was because, when she didn't look directly at him, his shape seemed to shiver and change in her peripheral vision. Yet he did nothing but stand and watch. Unlike the time when we had met in reality, he did not offer her his help.

Charlie stared at her during breakfast, and she tried to ignore him. She supposed she deserved it. She couldn't expect him not to worry. It would probably be weeks before he stopped watching for the return of the zombie, and she would just have to try to not let it bother her. After all, she would be watching for the return of the zombie, too. Two days was hardly long enough to call herself cured.

School was the opposite. Now that she was paying attention, it was clear that no one was watching here.

Bella remembered the first day she'd come to Forks High School—how desperately she'd wished that she could turn gray, fade into the wet concrete of the sidewalk like an oversized chameleon. It seemed she was getting that wish answered, a year late.

It was like she wasn't there. Even her teachers' eyes slid past her seat as if it were empty.

She listened all through the morning, hearing once again the voices of the people around her. She tried to catch up on what was going on, but the conversations were so disjointed that she gave up.

Jessica didn't look up when she sat down next to her in Calculus.

"Hey, Jess," Bella said with put-on nonchalance. "How was the rest of your weekend?"

She looked at her with suspicious eyes. Could she still be angry? Or was she just too impatient to deal with a crazy person?

"Super," she said, turning back to her book.

"That's good," Bella mumbled.

The figure of speech _cold shoulder_ seemed to have some literal truth to it. She could feel the warm air blowing from the floor vents, but she was still too cold. She took the jacket off the back of her chair and put it on again.

Her fourth hour class got out late, and the lunch table she always sat at was full by the time she arrived. Mike was there, Jessica and Angela, Conner, Tyler, Eric and Lauren. Katie Marshall, the redheaded junior who lived around the corner from her, was sitting with Eric, and Austin Marks—older brother to the boy with the motorcycles—was next to her. Bella wondered how long they'd been sitting there, unable to remember if this was the first day or something that was a regular habit.

Bella was beginning to get annoyed with herself. She might as well have been packed in Styrofoam peanuts through the last semester.

No one looked up when she sat down next to Mike, even though the chair squealed stridently against the linoleum as she dragged it back.

She tried to catch up with the conversation.

Mike and Conner were talking sports, so she gave up on that one at once.

"Where's Ben today?" Lauren was asking Angela. Bella perked up, interested. She wondered if that meant Angela and Ben were still together.

She barely recognized Lauren. She'd cut off all her blond, corn-silk hair—now she had a pixie cut so short that the back was shaved like a boy. What an odd thing for her to do. Bella wished she knew the reason behind it. Did she get gum stuck in it? Did she sell it? Had all the people she was habitually nasty to caught her behind the gym and scalped her? Bella decided it wasn't fair for her to judge her now by her former opinion. For all she knew, she'd turned into a nice person.

"Ben's got the stomach flu," Angela said in her quiet, calm voice. "Hopefully it's just some twenty-four hour thing. He was really sick last night."

Angela had changed her hair, too. She'd grown out her layers.

"What did you two do this weekend?" Jessica asked, not sounding as if she cared about the answer. Bella had bet that this was just an opener so she could tell her own stories.

Bella wondered if she would talk about Port Angeles with her sitting two seats away? Was she that invisible, that no one would feel uncomfortable discussing her while she was here?

"We were going to have a picnic Saturday, actually, but... we changed our minds," Angela said. There was an edge to her voice that caught Bella's interest.

Jess, not so much. "That's too bad," she said, about to launch into her story. But Bella wasn't the only one who was paying attention.

"What happened?" Lauren asked curiously.

"Well," Angela said, seeming more hesitant than usual, though she was always reserved, "we drove up north, almost to the hot springs—there's a good spot just about a mile up the trail. But, when we were halfway there... we saw something."

"Saw something? What?" Lauren's pale eyebrows pulled together. Even Jess seemed to be listening now.

"I don't know," Angela said. "We think it was a bear. It was black, anyway, but it seemed... too big."

Lauren snorted. "Oh, not you, too!" Her eyes turned mocking, and Bella decided she didn't need to give her the benefit of the doubt. Obviously her personality had not changed as much as her hair. "Tyler tried to sell me that one last week."

"You're not going to see any bears that close to the resort," Jessica said, siding with Lauren.

"Really," Angela protested in a low voice, looking down at the table. "We did see it."

Lauren snickered. Mike was still talking to Conner, not paying attention to the girls.

"No, she's right," Bella threw in impatiently. "We had a hiker in just Saturday who saw the bear, too, Angela. He said it was huge and black and just outside of town, didn't he, Mike?"

There was a moment of silence. Every pair of eyes at the table turned to stare at her in shock. The new girl, Katie, had her mouth hanging open like she'd just witnessed an explosion. Nobody moved.

"Mike?" Bella muttered, mortified. "Remember the guy with the bear story?"

"S-sure," Mike stuttered after a second. She didn't know why he was looking at her so strangely. She talked to him at work, didn't she? Did she? She thought so...

Mike recovered. "Yeah, there was a guy who said he saw a huge black bear right at the trailhead—bigger than a grizzly," he confirmed.

"Hmph." Lauren turned to Jessica, her shoulders stiff, and changed the subject. "Did you hear back from USC?" she asked.

Everyone else looked away, too, except for Mike and Angela. Angela smiled at Bella tentatively, and she hurried to return the smile.

"So, what did you do this weekend, Bella?" Mike asked, curious, but oddly wary. Everyone but Lauren looked back, waiting for her response.

"Friday night, Jessica and I went to a movie in Port Angeles. And then I spent Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday down at La Push."

The eyes flickered to Jessica and back to Bella. Jess looked irritated. Bella wondered if she didn't want anyone to know she'd gone out with her, or whether she just wanted to be the one to tell the story.

"What movie did you see?" Mike asked, starting to smile.

" _Dead End_ —the one with the zombies." Bella grinned in encouragement. Maybe some of the damage she'd done in these past zombie months was reparable.

"I heard that was scary. Did you think so?" Mike was eager to continue the conversation.

"Bella had to leave at the end, she was so freaked," Jessica inserted with a sly smile.

Bella nodded, trying to look embarrassed. "It was pretty scary."

Mike didn't stop asking her questions till lunch was over. Gradually, the others were able to start up their own conversations again, though they still looked at her a lot. Angela talked mostly to Mike and Bella, and, when Bella got up to dump her tray, she followed.

"Thanks," she said in a low voice when they were away from the table.

"For what?"

"Speaking up, sticking up for me."

"No problem."

She looked at her with concern, but not the offensive, maybe-she's-lost-it kind. "Are you okay?"

This was why she'd picked Jessica over Angela—though she'd always liked Angela more—for the girls' night movie. Angela was too perceptive.

"Not completely," Bella admitted. "But I'm a little bit better."

"I'm glad," she said. "I've missed you."

Lauren and Jessica strolled by us then, and she heard Lauren whisper loudly, "Oh, _joy_ Bella's back."

Angela rolled her eyes at them, and smiled at her in encouragement.

Bella sighed. It was like she was starting all over again.

"What's today's date?" Bella wondered suddenly.

"It's January nineteenth."

"Hmm."

"What is it?" Angela asked.

"It was a year ago yesterday that I had my first day here," she mused.

"Nothing's changed much," Angela muttered, looking after Lauren and Jessica.

"I know," Bella agreed "I was just thinking the same thing."

 ***** They were standing side by side, walking to class in comfortable silence until Bella took notice of how different Angela was when she wasn't engaged in conversation. Her mouth had a bruised look to it. Her eyes were purple underneath, like you get from not sleeping.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to the funeral," Bella said.

It had been sometime last week, when she was still trying to figure out how not to be a zombie. School had ended earlier than usual; that much she remembered. Charlie had attended the service, or so she thought. It was all a blur to her, but she still felt bad for not being there for Angela.

"It's OK." Angela worried her teeth on the bottom of her lip. It looked raw, like she'd been chewing on it a lot. "I didn't want to be there myself. Mom couldn't even handle being at the wake so she took Joshua home, and it was just my dad and I." She folded her arms over her chest tightly. "No one should see a coffin that small."

"How are your parents?"

"They're not taking it really well, but dad's just making it worse." Angela took a deep breath and stared at Bella. "He thinks it wasn't Isaac."

For a second, Bella didn't say anything. Neither of them did. But they didn't look away from each other. They had even realized that they had stopped in the middle of the hallway.

Bella could only nod. She was suddenly cold, goose bumps coming up her arms that had no correlation to the freezing cold weather. "Why does he think that?"

"He was the one who found Isaac. Kept saying that whatever died in the crib wasn't his son."

"Do….do you believe him?"

Angela stared off into the distance, her eyes wide and hurt and, for the first time, brimming with tears. "I don't know. It _was_ Isaac laying in that coffin, but at the same time it wasn't. And I know that doesn't make any sense, but I can't explain it any other way. I know my brother, and whatever is in that box is not him, but something else with his face."

Bella didn't know what to say. She had never been good at handling others emotions. She could deal with miscellaneous, household things like paying bills, cooking and cleaning, but she knew that she lacked the skill to comfort people. It just wasn't her forte, but she _wanted_ to be there for Angela because Bella knew how easily she'd get swept to the side. It had happened to her when her vacations had been split up between her parents, it had happened when Grandma Swan had died, and the same thing occurred when Renée married Phil. No one had cared to listen to Bella about what she thought and how she felt. It wasn't a good feeling, and then to top it all off, Angela's father was planting seeds of craziness into his daughter's head to make the grieving process all the more overwhelming for her. Bella couldn't imagine what a wreck Angela's mind was.

Bella took a deep breath and said, "Have you tried talking to the school counselor yet? Maybe it'd be good to talk to a stranger."

She tried to ignore the look of betrayal in Angela's eyes. She wanted Angela to know that she would be there for her, but did she honestly expect Bella to believe in the nonsense her father was sprouting? Her brother _died_ —and both Angela and her father needed professional help if they thought that the body they had buried wasn't Isaac.

And maybe it was hypothetical on Bella's end. She had acted like a zombie for months all because a boy—who was really a vampire—had dumped her. Bella could admit that she had allowed herself get sucked into the wonders of the Cullen's lifestyle, of what they were, and she had neglected the fact that she still was human who needed to be around other humans. Maybe _he_ had been right. Maybe they were only meant to be predator and prey.

"I didn't mean it like that, Angie," Bella said. "I just don't want you to end up like me."

Angela nodded her head and looked down at her shoes. Bella could see that Angela understood what she meant, and because of that, Angela told her something else, so hoarse and low that it was almost a whisper. "There was a girl at the funeral. No one knew who she was. She came up to me after the service had been over and she told me something."

"What did she tell you?"

Angela made a fist. "That if I didn't get my dad to shut up, something's going to happen to him."

Bella's eyes widen. That hadn't been what she expected to hear at all. "Did you tell my dad?"

Angela shook her head. "I don't know why I didn't. I wanted to, but I just couldn't." She whipped her head around and stared into Bella's eyes pleadingly. "Bella, you can't tell your dad anything. Please, don't. It could get my dad killed."

Bella let out a breath in a long, pressurized sigh. "I won't tell Charlie," she promised when Angela started to tear up again. She couldn't ignore the burning sensation in her throat, though. Somehow, the promise was going to come back and bite her in the ass. She just knew it. "What did she look like?"

"I can't remember," Angela said in a strange tone. "My memory of her is foggy, but there's one thing about her that stood out. It was her eyes. They looked like a diamond; clean cut and sharp—like an actual diamond, but there was an odd mix of white and blue in them. I just remember that she had strange eyes."

A chill ran down from the top of Bella's head and poured down through her chest and arms. She knew exactly who Angela was talking about.

She had tried to forget about the incident in the gym a few nights ago. In fact, she hadn't thought of the stranger since then and she found that to be odd. Who just randomly forgets about a gorgeous girl who tried to use mind control to get a kiss? But that wasn't even the strangest part. Bella had sworn she had seen the girl before, but she just couldn't remember where. There was something familiar about the stranger that called out to her.

And Bella desperately wanted to know who she was.

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 **Responses:**

Ali: Thank you, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

natcityjp: Bella will definitely find someone new! Thanks for the review.

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 **Information/Credits/Disclaimers:**

—All characters and events belong to Stephenie Meyer and to the publisher, Little, Brown and Company. Events from the movie(s) belong to the production and distribution companies.

—The first half of the chapter was inspired by Chapter Ten of _The Vampire Diaries: The Awakening: Volume 1_ written by L. J. Smith. Aspen's character is similar to Damon Salvatore because book Damon was so much better than TV Damon. That's my opinion at least.

—T'ist'ilal or Tistilal, in the Quileute language, is the Thunderbird. It is an important figure throughout Northwest Coast mythology. In Quileute, its name is pronounced similar to tiss-tih-lall. The Thunderbird is described by the Quileutes as a bird large enough to carry a whale in its claws, whose beating wings make thunder.

—Nora Black is the oldest sister of Billy, Emmie, Jennie and Connie Black, the daughter of Judith Peterson and William Black, Sr, the sister-in-law of Kevin Littlesea, and the aunt of Rachel, Rebecca and Jacob Black, and Collin Littlesea. It is not known if she is still alive during the events of the _Twilight_ series.

—Q'wati (also spelled K'wati, Kweheti, Kwatee, Q'waeti, K'wa'iti, Qati, Kwati, Qwati, K'wa'iti, and several other ways.) is the benevolent culture hero of Quileute legends, frequently referred to in English as the Transformer. His name is pronounced similar to kwatt-ee, only the "k" is pronounced further back in the throat than English "k" and with a catch in the throat after it. The same character is called Dukwibal or Dokibatt in the Puget Sound Salish tribes, Xelas or Haylas in the Coast Salish tribes, and Misp' or Musp in the Quinault tribe. Q'wati is usually credited with creating the Quileute Indian tribe and their neighbors, teaching them right behavior and cultural skills, and protecting them by changing the environment and getting rid of monsters.

—Pixies (also piskies, pisgies, pigsies and west country fairies) are mythical creatures of folklore, considered to be particularly concentrated in the areas of Devon, Somerset and Cornwall in southern England, suggesting a Celtic origin for the belief and the name. In Devon, pixies are said to be "invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man." However, pixies are also seen as being malicious tricksters who enjoy playing pranks on people.  
They may steal humans' belongings, or throw pots and pans after kitchen girls.

—The Mannegishi (singular the same) are a race of trickster people in Cree folklore, similar in nature to the Memegwesi of the Ojibwa. They are described as semi-humanoid, being sexdactylous humans with very thin and lanky arms and legs and big heads minus a nose. According to one Cree schema of the mythology, there are two humanoid races, one being the familiar human species and the other being the "little people", i.e. Mannegishi. These people are said to live between rocks in the rapids. One of their biggest delights—a completely non-heroic form of trickster behavior—is to crawl out of the rocks and capsize the canoes of people canoeing through the rapids, spinning them to their death.

—The Mannegishi has attracted interest in recent years due to its possible cryptozoological connections. It is believed by some that the Dover Demon represents a modern sighting of the Mannegishi.

—I could not find a word or anything close to what the Quileute call the "little people." The Native peoples of North America told legends of a race of "little people" who lived in the woods near sandy hills and sometimes near rocks located along large bodies of water, such as the Great Lakes.

—By legend, the Quileutes only kindred, the Chimakum Tribe, were washed away by flood and deposited near present-day Port Townsend (where they lived until Chief Seattle's Suquamish Tribe wiped them out in the 1860s), leaving the Quileutes with no known relatives on earth. Quileutes were thus were surrounded by unrelated tribes, the Makah—Nuh-Chul-Nuth who migrated down from the west coast of Vancouver Island; S'Klallam to the northeast along the Strait of Juan de Fuca; and Quinault, south at Taholah, both descended from the Salishan. Relations with these groups allowed trade, intermarriage of nobility, and the ostentatious ceremony—the potlatch—an honoring giveaway celebration and redistribution of wealth. Occasionally, however, controversy over trespassing caused outbursts of warfare or slave raiding.

—Ho-kwats, White Drifting-House people.

—In Scotland, Ireland and Europe iron keeps away mischievous and malicious fairies.

—Blackberry stems, ivy and boxwood are known to be protection herbs that ward off evil spirits.

—Aphrodite LaFont is a main character in the _House of Night_ Series, and is an Oracle and Prophetess. Originally, she is an enemy of Zoey Redbird. However, later in the series, the pair become more friendly, and Aphrodite is shown in a kinder light, although she is still sarcastic and sometimes hateful.

—Street Cats is a rescue charity for homeless cats. In the _House of Night Series_ , the Benedictine Sisters have run and owned Street Cats for two years when Zoey Redbird, Aphrodite LaFont, and Darius visit in _Untamed_. Sister Mary Angela is the nun in charge of most things here.

—If you would like to learn more about the real life Street Cats organization, please visit: www . streetcatstulsa (you obviously remove the spaces when typed into the search bar.)

—Maleficent is Aphrodite's cat. She is big white "puff ball" according to Aphrodite, Maleficent is a purebred Persian. Maleficent chose Aphrodite while working at Street Cats in Tulsa.

—Sister Mary Angela first appears in _Untamed_ as a nun and the owner of Street Cats. In _Hunted_ , it is revealed she is Spirit to banish Kalona and joins Zoey at the end to help her do so.

—Darius is a warrior in the _House of Night_ series and is in a relationship with Aphrodite.

—Nerd herd is a term Aphrodite came up with to describe Zoey's group of friends. Ironically, because Aphrodite is a friend of Zoey as well, she's a member of the 'nerd herd' too.

—I did not choose the name Aspen on a whim. It actually has meaning behind it that coincides with the story and the character. The Latin name for aspen is 'populus tremula' meaning trembling poplar because the leaves of the aspen appear to tremble in the wind. In Celtic mythology this visual effect was said to be the tree communicating between this world and the next.

—The quivering leaves helped the wind speak with the ancestors while also bearing gifts of inspiration and poetry. For these reasons the aspen was sometimes known as the whispering tree, a sacred tree to the Celts.

—The Celts chose the lightweight wood of the aspen tree to make their shields which were thought to protect them from spiritual more than physical harm. Crowns of aspen or poplar leaves have been found in ancient burial grounds thought to be there in order to aid the dead on their path to rebirth.

—In Scotland, as a fairy tree, the aspen had taboos similar to the extremely sacred rowan tree. To cut one down was akin to killing your fellow man.

—Fun fact (or morbid fact depending on your opinion): The Christians, in their opposition to the old pagan ways, had a tendency to change any sacred tree's reputation from magical to evil. So, like several other trees, the aspen was said to have provided the wood for the cross at the crucifixion. Its trembling leaves were the result of the tree shuddering in shame at the memory of this. So feared and hated the aspen became that even up to recent times people could be seen throwing stones at the tree.

— "...Until she'd met Darius, she hadn't let anyone get close enough to her for it to matter whether [they] lied to her or not. She'd been sure she'd lied to them first. Cheated on them first. Broken up with them first."—Aphrodite LaFont, _Redeemed_

—A fairy (also fata, fay, fey, fae, fair folk; from faery, faerie, "realm of the fays") is a type of mythical being or legendary creature in European folklore, a form of spirit, often described as metaphysical, supernatural, or preternatural.

—Fairy Folk can assume almost any size and form they like, from tiny to huge. While some prefer to look like extraordinarily beautiful people, other will freely mix human, animal and even plant features in bizarre and fanciful combinations; hence Aspen's otherworldly beauty, her silver skin, dragonfly-like wings, the antlers on her head (as described in chapter one), the unknown language written on her skin, and the glow that outlines her frame.

—The Pythia was the name of the High Priestess of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi who also served as the oracle, commonly known as the Oracle of Delphi.

—Nyx was the Greek goddess of night, one of the primordial gods who emerged as the dawn of creation. In the _House of Night_ series, Nyx is the Goddess of the vampyres.

—The asterisk ( ***** ) at the end of this chapter is to indicate the part that was not written by Stephenie Meyer in Chapter 6: Friends of _New Moon_. It was added in by yours truly.

—This chapter was not overlooked by a beta.

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